


Chances Are

by inkandwords



Series: After All [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Humor, Drama, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Male Friendship, Past Child Abuse, Self-Discovery, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, a wild ennotana appears, atsu fics, second button confessions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 19:31:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 72,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4889284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandwords/pseuds/inkandwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Mind-boggled" is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to how Nishinoya feels in the aftermath of Asahi's post-graduation parting gift. But after a few mishaps, he begins to wonder if he's missed the opportunity to find out the what ifs or if there's really such a thing as second chances.<br/>__________</p>
<p>Stellar art by <a href="http://drawverylittle.tumblr.com/">drawverylittle</a> included. ♥ || Link in corresponding chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One With the Button

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third years' graduation has everyone a little nostalgic and wondering what the future holds, but Asahi's parting gift makes Nishinoya wonder about more than just his exam results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started out as an idea conversation for a short drabble with [drawverylittle](drawverylittle.tumblr.com), but then it got away from me and _whoops_ , multichapter it is. haha. I also really have it bad for some TanaNoya epic bromance (inspired by actual banter with [kaijoskopycat](http://kaijoskopycat.tumblr.com)) just as much as I do for some adorkably semi-angsty AsaNoyas. This is technically my first attempt at anything in the Haikyuu!! fandom (except for that one very short drabble), so please be gentle and if there's any inconsistencies I missed or details I got wrong, please let me know! Happy reading! :D
> 
> -H
> 
> **EDIT:** [_OHMYGJOADJFLGJ THERE'S ART_](http://drawverylittle.tumblr.com/post/130151775756/teaser-art-for-chances-are-by-limitlessmonster). BEEBEE CAME UP WITH A THING AND BROUGHT CHAPTER ONE'S END SCENE TO LIFE. I'M STILL FLAILING LIKE AN IDIOT ABOUT IT OHMYGOD. ♥♥♥

Noya’s stomach knots while he sits, cross-legged on the polished surface of the gym floor. He waits for the third years to join the rest of the team with Tanaka, who is attempting to pass the time trying to spin the volleyball on his forehead to no avail. They’ve been there a while and Noya’s legs jiggle from pent-up nervous energy.

“Quit that, will ya?” Tanaka says, smacking one of Noya’s knees mid-jumping bean routine. The ball drops off his face and thuds dully against the floor before rolling away. Noya smacks him back; not in a retaliatory sense, really, but more to have something to do with his hands. Tanaka’s brows crease, one raised as he gives Noya an exasperated scowl. “You’re makin’ me nervous and you know how I get when I need to release some steam. We don’t have the rest of exams ‘til tomorrow. I’d kinda like to enjoy what’s left of my freedom before I get home and it turns into study prison hell.”

“Yeah, sorry, man. I’m just, I dunno--”

“Yeah, I know. I’m gonna miss ‘em, too. Especially winning those games like we did during Inter-High and Spring High.” Tanaka clenches his fists, a mixture of awe and excitement seeping into his voice. “Man, that last game, though. That was such a sweet spike for the match point! Thought the ball was gonna explode on impact. Asahi’s really gotten into his groove after you gave him that come-to-Jesus speech.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You can pull that shit off, no problem.”

“You’re obligated to say that ‘cause of the best friend code, but,” he says with a cheeky grin, “thanks, man. Say more shit like that. Maybe in front of Kiyoko-san.”

“Ah man, I’d be too blinded by the parting clouds and holy angelic music bursting from the heavens to say anything if she’s anywhere within five feet of me.” Noya snorts. “You know my IQ drops like fifty points and I turn into a drooling invalid whenever she’s around.” 

Tanaka busts out laughing. “You barely noticed she was there the other day when someone had to take his shirt off ‘cause you ‘accidentally’ sprayed him with the water hose at the fundraiser. I get Asahi’s pretty macho, macho man compared to the rest of us, but you looked about ready to nosebleed. Thought I might have to break out the emergency tampons for plugging purposes.”

Noya groans. “Can we not talk about that? I wasn’t expecting it, okay?! Jeez, who takes their shirt off at a car wash anyway?”

Tanaka doesn’t need to know about the stupid amount of time he spent admiring the slope of Asahi’s back, or the way the water stuck to his sweat-slicked skin, or the way his arms flexed when he rung the water from his shirt, or when he--

“Earth to Noya.”

_Shit. What the hell, brain?!_

“Huh? What?”

“You spaced out for a sec.”

“Did not!”

“What did I say then?”

“Uh, something about tampons?” Noya ventures absently. 

Tanaka rolls his eyes and claps a hand on Noya’s shoulder. “Chill out. You’re not the one graduating. What’ve you got to be nervous about?”

“Exams? The fear of failure? The anxiety of being a part of the oppressive school system in general? I dunno. I vote for a ban on all exams and everyone can just play volleyball as a supplementary activity instead.” Noya feels the flush creep up and he turns away before Tanaka realizes he’s reduced him to something that looks like a walking tomato. There’s no way Tanaka knows what’s been going on in his head, no matter how much their brains sync up or how well Tanaka seems to know him.

“There were a lot of large words in that sentence. Did you swallow a thesaurus or something? What the hell?”

Noya rubs Tanaka’s head affectionately and makes a face when he feels the short hairs bristle against his palm. “Dumbass,” he manages lamely. Looking around the rest of the gym, he finds the other second years idly keeping busy with some of the first years, who seem to have an abundance of energy even with the grueling study sessions everyone’s had the past couple of days. He pushes off the gym floor, shoes squeaking on the polished wood, and heads toward the supply closet, the top half of his uniform already unbuttoned and ready to come off. “Let’s toss the ball around. I need a distraction.”

“Music to my ears,” Tanaka agrees, following suit and tossing the top half of his uniform on the floor. “Thought you were gonna self-implode if you kept sitting there like some kind of nuclear experiment gone wrong.”

Tossing the ball around was a good idea after all, and it takes no time before the other members of the team join them in one collective group. The sound of bouncing balls echoes inside the gym, familiar and slightly comforting. Noya’s brain clicks into focus-mode, the same it always does during their regularly scheduled practices, and he finds it’s easier to keep his thoughts pushed back, to keep his mind on something else. He doesn’t even know why he’s so jumpy, in all honesty. But something inside him makes jumping beans seem like an understatement and the onset of antsiness without knowing the cause makes him confused to all hell.

When the third years finally enter, laughing and ribbing each other like they normally do, Noya is warmed up and exhilarated and completely in his element as he manages to save a serve from meeting its untimely end.

Daichi’s voice filters through the gym’s open doors. “Are you going to tell us who got it?”

“Come on, Asahi. You know you can’t keep it from us forever. We’ll find out eventually,” Sugawara presses, amusement in his voice. 

Noya’s ears perk, completely tuned into their conversation, though he’s not entirely sure why. Something about the way Asahi stammers his reply, the cadence in his tone, makes Noya’s stomach knot in a way that bewilders him.

Daichi, Sugawara, and Asahi all stop when they see the rest of the team running back and forth, appreciative smiles forming all around. Daichi claps his hands and motions them all forward. 

Noya’s gaze immediately zeroes in on Asahi’s uniform; or rather, he zooms in on the one thing missing from Asahi’s uniform.

 _Oh_ , he thinks, a twinge of disappointment. It begins in his chest, a subtle ache that digs its roots in and makes his mouth twitch in response.  _He must have given it to whoever that girl was after the graduation ceremony._

 _It doesn’t matter_ , he tells himself. He doesn’t know why he even bothered to check. He and Asahi are friends; they have been since he started on the team. A mentor of sorts, a big brother maybe. Someone he definitely admires and looks up to in more ways than one.

 _Not that way, though_ , he thinks, almost as a reminder. Trying to convince his brain before it starts thinking weird shit again.

As they all gather around, it hits Noya just how much things are about to change. How everything he’s known for the past two years is going to be different when the new school year comes and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. The realization blindsides him for a moment, enough that he zones out on most of Daichi’s end of year speech, which, from the sound of things, sounds more like he’s trying to console the second years while pumping up the first years into being bonafide senpais come next season.

Hinata seems especially excited at the prospect and Noya fondly remembers the first time the revered title of senpai was given to him. “ _Hohhhhh_ I get to be a senpai next year! Kageyama, did you hear that?!”

With a scowl, Kageyama shoves Hinata’s face away even as he keeps a death grip on Kageyama’s track suit jacket. “Yeah, dumbass, I heard you! Can you tone it down before you blow out my eardrum? Tch. Idiot.”

“You’re just jealous ‘cause I’ll be a better senpai than you!”

“What did you say--”

Noya chuckles at the memory as the argument continues before something sharp lodges itself into his rib cage.

“You’re spacin’ out again, man.”

“I was payin’ attention,” Noya counters with a grimace. “Dude, that was my kidney. I kinda need my kidney.”

“Pretty sure your kidney’s somewhere else. I foresee a repeat in Biology in your academically challenged future.”

“Well, it could be there and if it was, you’d have severely fucked it up with your bony ass elbow,” Noya hisses just as Daichi gives him a look that clearly says ‘try to pay attention, both of you’ and that got him to shut up. Or at least make an attempt to before Tanaka nudges him not so gently again.

“You wanna go to Sakanoshita after this is done?”

“Sure,” Noya says, partly listening in on Daichi’s solemn parting. He says a few things that makes Ennoshita’s lip wobble and Hinata looks as though he’s about to burst a water main any second. “Should we ask if they wanna come with?”

Tanaka looks like he’s about to say something else from the way his expression pinches just the slightest bit, but he quickly recovers and shrugs noncommittally. “Guess so.”

* * *

 

A short while later, they’re all piling into Coach Ukai’s store, Noya zooming past the others to get first pick at the ice pops waiting in the freezer. The soda flavor ones are always the first to run out and he whoops in excitement when the last one sits on the shelf - cold, refreshing, and more beautiful than any mirage. He can practically hear the angelic choirs as he stares in full blown admiration. Ever since Tanaka had brought up going to the store, Noya’s thoughts had shut down, all the exams he had that day and the constant studying he’d had to power through finally catching up with him that the ice pop is like a welcome reprieve. To remind him of all the things he can still enjoy while a gray cloud of whatever it is that’s been eating at him continues to hover like an itch he can’t quite scratch.

He closes his eyes to savor the reverent moment, but when he opens them again, he blinks at the empty space where the ice pop had been only a moment before. “What the hell--”

“Oh,” says a quiet voice behind him. A chuckle follows before Noya turns, eyes narrowed at whoever dares to intercept what is rightfully his while he goes through his semi-worship ritual. Asahi offers a sheepish grin, one hand holding the opened ice pop, less the bite Asahi has already taken, and the other clamped awkwardly at his nape. “Sorry, I didn’t know you wanted that. I thought you couldn’t decide and since you’re always the first one to grab this flavor and you didn’t, I thought maybe you’d changed your mind and I was free to take it.”

“I--” Noya stares at the ice pop and suddenly, the image of Asahi putting the thing in his mouth invades his brain like some kind of Rick-roll YouTube video and he feels his face instantly heat to the temperature of a volcanic disaster. He blinks to push the thought away, weirded out by it more than anything, and jovially waves a hand back and forth. “It’s cool, you can have it. I was gonna head out anyway. Consider it a graduation parting gift. I mean, I could even reimburse ya for it if ya want.”

It’s Asahi’s turn to flush, the light pink dusting his cheeks something Noya doesn’t expect. “Uh, well, you see -- that is, I didn’t mean it that way. I just--” He pulls himself together enough to manage a weak, “I didn’t mean for you to give me anything.” He holds out the partially eaten ice pop and gives Noya a small smile. “You can have it if you still want it? I know it’s your favorite, even if it's sorta, uh, got my germs on it now.”

“Nah, I should probably get home so I can cram my brain with more things I’m probably not gonna remember tomorrow. But thanks anyway,” Noya says, glancing around Asahi at Tanaka to signal that he’s leaving, “I appreciate your sacrificial offer.”

“Sacrificial off-- no, oh god,” Asahi starts, following Noya to the exit before he puts a hand on Noya’s elbow to stop him. “W-Wait, how about you let me walk you to the station to make up for it? I- um, it’s the least I could... do.”

Noya narrows his eyes as he watches Asahi fidget while he waits for an answer. It’s getting kind of late, but Asahi’s being nice about it and all, and it really wouldn’t be so bad having some company on the way. With a friend. Definitely a friend. No weirdness in it at all, nope. “How bad do you feel about stealing the only flavor I’d give my right arm for?” Then he adds as an afterthought, “Okay, maybe not my right arm, but something of equal value.”

“Horrible. Really, truly,” Asahi says with a solemn nod. “So... how about it? I promise I won’t, uh, be all creepy and molest you or anything.”

“Molest me?” Noya busts out laughing enough that the others join them, their expressions mildly amused and a little more than curious. “You wouldn’t know what to do with that word if it came with illustrated flashcards, Asahi.”

“He’s right, you know,” Suga interjects, an impish twinkle in his eyes that makes Noya wonder what exactly is going on behind that sugar sweet front he’s always wearing. “I think there’s more chance of you being taken advantage of by Nishinoya than the other way around.”

“I’d have to agree--” Daichi says with a lighthearted chuckle, shooting Asahi an apologetic glance that doesn’t seem the least bit remorseful. “Sorry, Asahi.”

Asahi palms his face, somewhat flustered. “Wh-What? Oh god, this conversation is taking a turn into something probably not appropriate to have in front of the first years.”

“Hey! We’re technically second years now!” Hinata quips from behind Kageyama, who only huffs as he glares at Hinata for the umpteenth time that day. “Or we will be, anyway.”

“If you manage to pass your exams, you half-wit shrimp,” Kageyama mutters under his breath, but Noya doesn’t miss the lack of venom or the worrisome tone Kageyama uses whenever he address Hinata. It makes Noya quirk a grin. Must be nice to have someone watch out for him like that, he thinks wistfully as he steals a look at Asahi.

“So, how about it?” Asahi asks, breaking Noya out of his silent digression. “Let me make it up to you?”

Daichi and Suga exchange a glance and, instantly, Noya’s Spidey senses kick in. 

“You shouldn’t turn down an offer from your senior, Nishinoya. I’m sure Asahi would feel better knowing you got to the train station safe and sound,” Suga says with that Cheshire grin. 

"What am I? Five?" Noya grumbles with a curl of his lip. 

“It’s settled then! Come on, we should all get going anyway. The others have some more studying to do so they don’t fail their exams miserably and end up repeating their first year.”

“Wait,” Hinata hisses as he pokes the back of Kageyama's shoulder, “he’s kidding, right?”

Tsukishima mutters, “At least his appearance can catch up if he does end up repeating,” as he follows Yamaguchi out of the store.

“Tsukki, you shouldn’t say that about him!” Yamaguchi not so quietly reprimands.

Hinata bristles and stalks after them, Kageyama at his heels. “I heard that!”

“I meant for you to,” comes Tsukishima’s response as Ennoshita, Narita, and Kinoshita trail behind, shaking their heads and trying not to laugh.

“Oi! I’m the only one that can say those things about him!” Kageyama snaps, leaving Noya with just Tanaka and the remaining third years. 

Noya looks at Tanaka to get confirmation that it’s cool to bail and only gets a casual shrug as Tanaka adjusts the strap of his school bag. “I can walk to the train station by myself, pumpkin. But it’s nice of you to be so concerned.” He rolls his eyes with a laugh and lifts a hand on his way out the door. “Congrats on graduating again!” he calls out to Daichi and the others, and then to Noya, “I’ll Skype you for the study questions. Later, bro!”

Daichi and Suga seem to sense something because they also say their goodbyes and slip out before Noya can protest. When Noya turns to Asahi, the older boy gives him a tentative smile, so Noya does the only thing that pops into his head: he clamps a hand on Asahi’s shoulder, which only seems to startle him into nearly dropping his melting ice pop, before he says, “Looks like you’re walking me then.” 

* * *

 

“So,” Noya starts as they make their way toward the train station, a little pissed at himself for feeling so awkward because one, it was Asahi and they’re friends, and two, it was Asahi and he’s nervous enough for everyone else on a regular basis that it borders on irritating sometimes. It's not like they've never walked to the station together before until it suddenly dawns on Noya that they actually... haven't. But still, it proves difficult for Noya to push away the weird discomfort, especially with Asahi fidgeting with his bag strap as they walk. “Do you have any plans now that you’re finally free from the strings of required education?”

Asahi chuckles and Noya hears the slight nervousness behind it, committing it to memory. He’s always liked Asahi’s laugh.

“Since when are you suddenly so formal?” Asahi asks, scratching his cheek.

“I’m not?” Noya glances at Asahi from his peripheral, a brow quirking. “Just askin’ a question. Is that not allowed?”

“Ah, n-no, that’s definitely allowed. It’s just-- I, well, I hadn’t really thought about it, I guess.” Asahi hums while he contemplates his answer. He walks slower, as though he’s consciously trying to match Noya’s shorter strides. Noya finds he appreciates the unexpected gesture. “I was trying to get through today and then I promised myself I’d think about all the other stuff when I got home.”

“Guess that makes sense. I feel the same way about exams, honestly. Are you--” Noya pauses, unsure where his boundaries lay with Asahi, if it’s his place to bring up Asahi’s future. Or lack thereof, in this case. “You’re really not going to university after this?”

It takes Asahi a little longer to answer, the silence that hangs between them too stifling and heavy and imposing for Noya’s liking. He’s about to wave the question away, to change the subject to something less guilt-tripping, when Asahi finally clears his throat. “I hadn’t planned on it, no. I mean, it really wasn’t something I thought was a big deal especially when my grades weren’t high up there, but--” He halts mid-sentence when his gaze flickers to Noya’s face. “I-Is that wrong?”

When it seems clear that Asahi’s obviously waiting for a response, Noya blinks and forces himself to look away. His fists clench at his sides, but he wills away the urge to reprimand Asahi, to lecture him on what he should or shouldn’t do with his life. He can’t exactly explain why he feels so strongly about it, why Asahi’s future matters so much, but it does and the strength of his advocacy baffles him.

He chooses his words carefully when he responds, adding a non-committal shrug to emphasize his point. “Nah, I guess not. University isn’t for everyone. I just worry about you, y’know? Your well being is important to me.” He sucks in a breath and lets out an airy laugh. “I always worry about you. But that’s probably just ‘cause you’re always so wishy washy and skittish that it’s kinda hard not to be.”

“Ah, s-sorry. I don’t mean to be. I guess it’s just part of my charm?” The attempt at the joke makes the both of them laugh, but when the laughter dies, Asahi is silent the rest of the way to Noya’s platform. While Noya is used to keeping the conversation going, to keeping something buzzing back and forth in the form of banter or equally exuberant antics, he finds he doesn’t much mind the contrast of quiet company. 

From Noya’s peripheral, he glimpses Asahi’s profile, strong against the dying afternoon light, slightly intimidating to anyone who doesn’t know what a big teddy bear Asahi really is, and reminding Noya of those Renaissance paintings he’d seen once on some show his older sister, Sadashi, was watching. It still doesn’t make much sense why Asahi would have walked all this way when he lives on the opposite end of town, but Noya chalks it up to graduation nostalgia and unresolved ice cream guilt  ~~(even if he doesn’t quite believe the latter)~~. He and Asahi are pretty close by anyone’s standards, though Noya had fully expected him to stay behind with Daichi and Suga.

The train pulls in just as they reach the nearly empty platform, their steps quickening so that Noya wouldn’t have to make a mad dash for it once all the other passengers have disembarked. The small number of people who do occupy the waiting area begin to stand and position themselves behind the safety line, expectant eyes trained on the oncoming train still a few minutes away. 

“I guess this is it, yeah? I got your number, so I’ll text ya to see if you’re up for hangin’ out during Spring Break. If that’s cool.” Noya grins and boards behind a few older passengers and a businessman loudly yapping away on his cell phone. He tries to backtrack when he sees a flash of hesitation in Asahi’s eyes. “I mean, you totally don’t have to. I get if you wanna take off for a while or whatever.”

“It’s not that,” Asahi starts, but the announcer interrupts him with the boarding call as the train hisses. “I just - I don’t know how to say this and, goddammit, I should’ve probably brought it up sooner, but it was a little awkward, especially since I took your favorite ice cream, and you were asking all those questions and--”

“Asahi, door,” Noya prompts, his head tilting to the side, bewildered. 

“That is, what I meant to say was, uh--” Asahi digs into his pocket for a second as the doors begin to move. With the sudden loss of time, he quickly shoves something in Noya’s hand just as the barrier between them hisses to a close. He doesn’t say anything, his expression looking somewhat forlorn and conflicted. 

Noya glances down and recognizes Asahi’s handkerchief, lifting his gaze to cock a brow at the taller boy before he distractedly unfolds the fabric. The train starts and knocks him to the side, the ball of his right foot planting firmly on the floor to keep his balance while he watches Asahi disappear from view. When he looks down again, his mouth suddenly goes cotton-dry, his brain short-circuiting for a brief moment as he stares at the handkerchief’s contents.

Right smack dab in the middle is a button. The very same button missing from the second slot of Asahi’s school uniform.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone confused about that chapter ending, the second button on a male uniform is said to be the same thing as someone confessing their feelings, as the second button is the closest to the heart. :D
> 
> Feedback would be greatly appreciated and I hope I didn't fuck up the attempt at canon divergence. LOL Thanks for reading! 
> 
> -H


	2. The One With the Dissection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After some serious not so serious dissection about Nishinoya's new predicament, Tanaka makes some pretty good points that convinces him to wade out and test the hypothetical waters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY NOYA!! ♥ Made the update just in time. Go me! haha.

_What the hell, Asahi?  
_

_Your second button..._

_...why did you give it to me?_

There’s a twinge in Noya’s chest. Pinched. Unsettled. A sort of ache that makes pushing air through his lungs pretty difficult considering he’s worked through double practices that hadn’t left him as winded as he feels now. It takes him a few minutes to realize he’s still standing by the door, one hand pressed against the glass. The other clutches the handkerchief, white-knuckled, as he zip-lines through the million different things hitting him from all directions.

Shock. Confusion. Maybe a little nausea. Maybe a lot of nausea.

Definitely overwhelming.

He remembers to breathe because that’s probably a necessity if he’s going to try to wrap his mind around what the hell just happened.

Air in.

Air out.

Repeat.

Easy, right?

It becomes a mantra in his head until he’s breathing normally enough that brain function returns just in time to grab a seat before he’s thrown on the floor like a newborn fawn. Somehow, in light of everything, he gets the distinct feeling he’s not done with his  _Bambi_  moments just yet.

It isn’t until he pries his fingers open that he notices his hands are trembling. The sensation isn’t alien; in fact, it feels close to the involuntary spasms he gets after Ukai and Daichi serve up a particularly grueling practice regiment. He barely manages to uncover the button again without dropping the damn thing and glares at his hands because  _what the hell?_  Once he gets his bearings in order, he picks it up and stares, eyes squinting and widening like changing the visual perspective is really going to change the outcome. He’s aware he probably looks like some deranged lunatic having some intense stare-down contest with a button in the middle of a semi-crowded train, but he doesn’t care. To anyone else, it looks like an ordinary button. Nothing special. Nothing spectacular or mind blowing. Except it is. It so is to the umpteenth power times a hundred whoa’s and he doesn’t know what to do with the weird, bubbly twisting thing his stomach is doing or how to handle the implications of Asahi’s button giving that he will most definitely be Googling as soon as he gets home.

For the entirety of the ride, Noya tries to remember the last two years. Tries to piece together interactions and conversations with Asahi that would even remotely explain the mindfuck he’s been thrown. But if Asahi has ever thought of him that way at any point throughout their friendship, someone up there has conveniently forgotten to show Noya all the signs. Or maybe he’d been too stupid to see them, too busy trying to make sure Asahi wouldn’t relapse into  _that place_  that Noya couldn’t reach to bother paying much attention to anything else. The thought frustrates him. Makes him want to punch something. And, despite his disbelief, makes him a little hopeful.  _Stupid_ , he reminds himself. 

It has to be a mistake. 

That’s the only logical explanation.

Maybe he had something on his face and Asahi, the perpetual saint he is, had shoved the handkerchief at him as a subtle way to let him know. Save him some embarrassment. Maybe he had forgotten the button was carefully tucked into the fabric folds like some sort of sacred keepsake. It would have been just as acceptable if Asahi had gone right in and wiped up whatever it was because personal space? What personal space? There is no personal space when it comes to Asahi. Hasn’t been in a long while.

But Asahi hadn’t done that. After the number of times Noya has scrubbed a hand across his face while he sifts through his jumbled thoughts, he concludes that even that pathetic excuse of an explanation is far reaching. 

He’s never entertained the idea of Asahi having a thing for him.  ~~Okay, maybe a little, but no one would be able to prove it. Except Tanaka, observant shit that he is. Maybe Suga, too. God, he’s fucked.~~  Sure, sometimes Noya’s eyes had lingered, had admired Asahi in a way that may have toed the line leading out of Friendzone City. But Asahi is attractive enough that Noya can’t have been the only one. And sometimes he’d caught Asahi’s dopey gaze doing the same, but Asahi spaces out about as much as Noya does and he could have been staring at the wall or at air, for all Noya knows. 

Though he’s already decided it’s a bad idea to get off at the next stop and hop a train back, he entertains the thought nonetheless before resigning himself to pulling his phone out with a frustrated grumble. Unfortunately, his fingers are still shaking and he hisses at the phone screen for failing to utilize the autocorrect function so that he doesn’t sound like an illiterate moron. He counts down from ten to calm himself before he makes attempt number two.

**Sent To: ryuu**  
[text]: we need a conversation  
[text]: i might be freakin out  
[text]: nix that. def freakin out  
[text]: too late tonight but game session at my place tmrw?  
[text]: it’d prob be better after i get exams out of the way

**Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: u need me to call u?  
[text]: now u got me wonderin what all the fuss is about lol

**Sent To: ryuu**  
[text]: nah  
[text]: or maybe  
[text]: idk   
[text]: nah tmrw

**Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: u sure?  
[text]: this sounds like emergency session material

**Sent To: ryuu**  
[text]: no  
[text]: i mean yeah i’m sure  
[text]: we need to study anyway  
[text]: or i do cause i’m probably gonna fail if i don’t at least go over some of that stuff

**Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: okay man but u kno u can hit me up if u need to  
[text]: i better get some good tabloid level deets after this cryptic shit  
[text]: send me the study q’s when u get home yeah?

**Sent To: ryuu**  
[text]: sorry! didn’t mean to freak u out  
[text]: but yeah, tmrw. tabloid level and then some  
[text]: text u when i log into skype. ttyl

* * *

 

As soon as he gets home, he beelines for his room, taking the stairs two at a time. His mother calls out from the kitchen and he throws a half-hearted “no, thanks!” when she asks if he wants something to eat. His nervous energy has taken a turn for the worse and since the nausea is still kind of there, he doesn’t want to risk puking all over the tatami mats. The stuff’s hard enough to clean without adding something that might prompt him to leave his window open for the next few days. His leg starts the jumping bean routine again as he sits on the floor, laptop opened in front of him. He should probably send Tanaka the study questions, but just as he logs into Skype, his curiosity has him opening the search engine instead. 

More than a few articles pop up when he types in “second button meaning” and he’s about to go through the third one he clicks on when a chime interrupts him. 

[ryuu: u made it home. everything cool? thx for the text btw. not like i was worried or anything]

[rolling_thunder: yeah, copacetic. sorry got distracted by something. sendin u the study q’s now]

[ryuu: dont worry bout it. glad ur straight]

[rolling_thunder: come again?]

[ryuu: glad ur okay. shit did i use the wrong character?]

[rolling_thunder: nah I just... u know wat nvm lol i’m bein dumb. long post coming]

[ryuu: thx man. u sure u dont wanna talk? seemed kinda important earlier]

[rolling_thunder: yeah, sure. i’m good for now but thanks]

He copies the information off an email he pulls up and pastes the contents into Tanaka’s chat box. From his peripheral, he catches a glimpse of his sketchbook, buried underneath the pile of clothes he went through that morning when he was trying to find his favorite t-shirt. He reaches out and tugs it free, propping it open on his lap while he searches the floor for the nylon case containing his art supplies. The chime from his computer momentarily interrupts his search, but he ignores it while he continues to rummage through his pile of crap. When he finds it, he pulls out a worn-looking pencil before he turns back to his Skype window.

[ryuu: this is awesome. what would i b w/o u? ;A;]

[rolling_thunder: probably failing your exam tmrw]

[ryuu: i resent that. even if ur mostly right. maybe.]

[rolling_thunder: lol even if u resent it, i’m always right anyway. gonna try to study some before i knock out. see ya at school tmrw]

[ryuu: sure thing n thx for the q’s. night dillweed]

[rolling_thunder: np, night asshat]

Noya logs off, but instead of studying, he closes the tabs and shuts down his computer altogether. He glances down at the sketchbook balanced on his thigh, hunches forward, and flicks the tip of the pencil on his tongue. Sketching always helps to clear his head and right now, he needs to get it out of his system, needs to get his jumbled thoughts together. His hand moves on its own accord, the strokes practiced and sure. First an eye. Then a nose. The other eye follows before he adds in the slope of a mouth, the sharp angle of a jawline. When he finishes the rough image, he holds it away from his face to get a better look. 

No matter what he does, it still looks exactly like the one person he’s not supposed think about, the one person who’s wormed his way into Noya’s brain with something both enigmatically mundane and interesting all at once. 

He makes a frustrated noise and shoves the sketchbook back under the mountain of clothes.

_Out of sight, out of mind._

* * *

 

“What do you mean he gave you a button?”

Tanaka’s question barely registers as the fighter Noya is controlling spins and cuts through Tanaka’s attack just in time to avoid a fatality. They’re sprawled out on Noya’s bedroom floor, stomachs pressed against the tatami mats, game controllers in hand, more relaxed than the day before considering all their exams are now officially over. Fingers mash against buttons, their speed frantic, both trying to outdo each other in a series of combos and special moves while Noya tries to keep from looking at the guide list open in one of the tabs on his computer. He screws up his face in concentration, tongue peeking out from between his teeth and then--

“Hoyeah! Take that, you overzealous buddha!” Noya jabs a finger at Tanaka, glee radiating from every pore. He bounces in his seat and motions for Tanaka to give it up, mouth stretched wide in a victorious grin. “You owe me a thousand yen. I told ya I’d unlock the next level in under five.”

Tanaka makes a frustrated noise before digging into his pocket for his wallet and reluctantly tugging out the money. “You totally cheated! You went and looked up the moves before you even started the damn thing! That’s a goddamn handicap, if ya ask me!”

Taking his winnings with a certain smugness, Noya shrugs in return and sits up, tossing the money on his bedside table. “Don’t be a sore loser, precious flower. Crocodile tears aren’t really your thing. Besides, I gave ya a chance to par and you said you didn’t wanna waste time looking at the new combos.”

“Still say you had an unfair advantage. You just got the thing last night - how the hell did you get so good already?” Tanaka grumbles, directing the cursor to the next level of the Tekken game blaring from the television. “Now I know what a great source of wholesome family entertainment this game is with its violence and balls-busting moves, but spit it out, will ya? I’m gonna piss myself I wanna know what happened so bad.”

Noya worries his bottom lip, somewhat regretting his decision to call Tanaka to help him dissect the entire thing. In his defense, the reaction is automatic; he calls Tanaka for most of the things he freaks out about, especially since Takeshi is too young to really vent stuff to and Sadashi is always busy with school and studying and her new group of weird New Age college buddies. Not that he doesn’t trust Tanaka. It’s the opposite, really. After he got over his initial ‘ _why are you giving me the stink eye, you wanna go, bruh_ ’ impression, they’ve been practically attached at the hip since their first year.

But this - this is new territory. He hasn’t even had a chance to really think about it himself after he got home the night before. Not much, anyway. And it didn’t have anything to do with the copious amounts of video games he played or the gory movies he watched just to keep his mind from wandering. Nope, not all.

“If you’re gonna keep spacing out like that, I might have to buy you that Buzz Lightyear helmet I saw at the store. It’s in the kiddie section, too, so it’ll fit perfectly,” Tanaka says with a shit-eating grin. “Get it? ‘Cause he’s an astronaut and you’re spa--  _oof_!”

Noya aims one of his pillows at Tanaka’s face and scowls. The ribs at his height usually roll off him without any lasting damage, but he’s edgy and he lashes out without thinking. “Fuck off with that! I still haven’t had my growth spurt yet, okay? Jeez, way to low blow.”

When Tanaka doesn’t respond to the jibe, Noya glances to the side to find Tanaka staring at him, an odd expression on his face.

Idly tugging the dyed strands of his hair, Noya makes an irritated noise and turns toward Tanaka head on. “What?”

“I know something’s eatin’ your shorts. You usually get all crazy warped when other people make a crack at the height crap, but not me. Not like that.” Tanaka’s eyes narrow. “Something’s definitely up. Is it Asahi? ‘Cause ain’t like you to get worked up like this, man.”

Noya freezes like a deer in headlights, eyes wide and his brain going a million miles a minute trying to figure out if he should talk or if he should continue to avoid the subject like some kind of incurable disease he doesn’t want to touch. Not now, not ever.

“I, yeah, sh-shit, no?” A frustrated noise escapes and he tugs his bangs hard enough to cause his head to bow toward his lap. It makes the Indian-style position he’s in considerably more uncomfortable. “Man, I really need to get on those stretches more.”

“Are you gonna tell me about the damn button or what?”

With a small shrug, Noya sprawls out on the mat again. He reaches for his favorite game case, the button and the handkerchief safely inside before he pulls it out and stares at it. That’s it, nothing else. Just stares. Asahi hadn’t said anything before he practically threw the damn thing at him and Noya remembers the way Asahi’s expression had looked: conflicted, torn, unsure from what he’d just done. Noya wonders if Asahi regrets giving him the button. Regrets what it implies. What it means to give something like that away.

Sucking in a breath, Noya hands the handkerchief and the button over. His palms sweat like he’s been sitting inside one of those steam rooms in an onsen he’d been in once. Except not as relaxing. And definitely without Tanaka staring at him like something alien’s about to sprout out of his head at any given moment.

“I know I always say Asahi’s a little weird, but this might skate past that. Are you gonna explain what this is or am I gonna have to guess? ‘Cause I gotta tell ya, bro, my brain’s a little fried from trying to figure out how the combos you were kicking my ass with managed to actually beat my awesome fighting skills.”

“Finally admitting that I kicked your ass. I think our friendship just took on a whole other level. It’s a holy experience. I should savor it.”

“Don’t change the subject, fairy princess. Evasion isn’t your best skill.”

Noya stills at the insult. Something about the word “fairy” hits a something in the sensitive area and he’s not exactly sure why. Sure, he’s had a few incidents where he’s stared a little too long, made off-handed comments about people who were definitely not girls that might have been taken out of context, but he’s never outright come out and said it. Admitting something like that is different. It’s something that can change things. That can change people. And he’s not sure if he’s ready to go there just yet, even if the question burns on the tip of his tongue. He whimpers pathetically and rubs his cheek against the mat.

This is Tanaka. Best Friend extraordinaire. The one who finishes his sentences before he has the chance to. Who thinks in the same radio waves his brain operates on. Who can take whatever he dishes out. Without judgement, without any lasting consequential damage to their solid bromance. At least, he hopes.

“Ryuu...” Tentatively, he ventures, “You think I am?”

“Huh?” Tanaka’s confusion is obvious and the way his brows crease together tells Noya that he isn’t putting the pieces together. At least not yet. “Do I think you’re what?”

“What else? A fucking fairy.” He rolls his head to the other side, staring at the dust motes floating in the air with the slant of light peeking through what remains of the afternoon sun. His voice quiets, like someone’s put something sticky and thick in his throat and he can’t seem to get a bearing on his vocal chords. 

“What? Is that what’s got your panties in a twist?” Tanaka’s voice catches and he quickly rectifies it with, “sorry -- boxers, briefs, something more manly? Whatever. Come on, Yuu. I was kidding. I’ve called ya worse names than that.” There’s a rustling sound behind him and suddenly, Tanaka’s voice is closer, a hint of hesitation there. “You’re not usually like this. I mean, you let shit roll off you like nothing, so why are you--”

Noya flinches. Waits for the realization to dawn in and for Tanaka to run out of his room faster than he can say ‘I dunno, I might be...’. He’s never been good at figuring things out for himself; his first instinct is always impulse, always a knee-jerk reaction to everything. Having to actually think about stuff, to get to the root of it, to find explanations - he doesn’t know if he’s cut out for it.

“D-Do you think--” Tanaka pauses and Noya can practically hear the cogs whirring in his head, the thinking cap doing some work that Noya himself refuses to think about. “Am I witnessing your great, big coming out moment? I feel like there should be clouds parting or something. At least some rendition of ‘It’s Raining Men’.”

The dust motes continue to dance in the air even as the light grows dimmer. Noya wishes he could be that way sometimes. Dancing on through all of the weird, confusing shit without care, without having to think about things that matter, things that are hard to understand.

When Noya doesn’t answer, Tanaka nudges him. “Do you need me to stuff you back in the closet?”

“No, yes, I mean-- I dunno. It’s kinda throwing off my game and making me antsy and just--” Noya pushes himself off the floor, cross-legged as he slumps. He vigorously rubs a hand on his face like the gesture would be enough to kick-start his brain and make sense of what he’s feeling. It gnaws at him, a little voice in the back of his head that’s speaking a foreign language he has yet to understand, but wants to. Almost achingly so. He looks pitifully at Tanaka. “It’s the second button.”

“Huh?”

“From his uniform. Asahi gave me the second button.”

It takes Tanaka a minute to catch up, but when he does, his eyes bug out and for a second, Noya is afraid they’re going to pop right out of their sockets. “Holy shit. Asahi?” He scratches the side of his head. “I thought that sappy shit was just for girls. My sister made me watch an anime episode one time and that’s where I remembered it from.”

“Thought so, too. So I went through a bunch of pages I found on Google last night, but nothing said anything about it not being the same thing if a guy gives it to another guy.”

“So that’s what you were looking up! I thought you were watching porn and were too embarrassed to tell me.”

“Nice to know that’s what you think I do in my free time,” Noya says with a snort.

“Hey, you know me. I don’t judge. I thought maybe you needed some pre-exam stress relief, so I wasn’t gonna question it.”

“Please don’t start questioning my masturbation activities.”

“Why are we even talking about your masturbation activities?”

“Right,” Noya says with a quick shake of his head. “Where was I going with this?”

“Google?” Tanaka pauses like he wants to say something else, but a flicker of something in his expression tells Noya that he’s not going to get whatever it was. Instead, Tanaka says, “Did you freak out?”

“That’s an understatement, but pretty close considering the weird urge I have to throw up and maybe watch a slasher movie so I don’t have to think about what this fucking means.”

“What do you want it to mean?”

Now it’s Noya’s turn to be confused. Stumped. Maybe a little bit jarred like that feeling he gets right before an elevator door opens and the car does the little hydraulic jolt. He’s always hated elevators. As it is, he’d been expecting Tanaka to show at least a modicum of disgust, possibly hidden behind an offhanded joke or something else lighter to diffuse his discomfort. But when Noya looks at him, Tanaka is all serious business and as odd as it is, it gives him a strange sense of comfort. That he’s not alone. That maybe he can talk about whatever the hell this is.

He tugs on his bangs. “What do you mean what do I want it to mean? You’re not grossed out? I read up on it, googled that shit and it’s pretty much the same thing if you give it to a guy instead of a girl.”

“Not what I asked, man.”

“He’s a guy--”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. But I’m thinking probably not the same way you’ve noticed--”

“And I’m a guy--”

“Also duly noted. Unless that boner you were sporting when Kiyoko smiled at you the first time you saved a ball with your foot was all for show. Might be kinda hard to keep a cucumber in your shorts, though. No pun intended.”

“A cucumber? Why would you choose a cucumber of all vegetables?”

“Did you want fruit instead? It could’ve been a banana.”

“Okay,  _okay_ , we’re getting off track.  _Focus_.”

“Hey, you’re the one being picky over the hypothetical details of your non-hypothetical hard-on.”

“Why are we still talking about my dick?”

“Technically, it was a comparison and not about your actual di--”

Noya makes another frustrated noise and whacks Tanaka with the same pillow he’s pulled off his unmade futon. “Asshat. Focus. Existential crisis here. Kinda need a second brain to dissect it.”

“Shit, man, I dunno,” Tanaka says with enough decency to at least look somewhat affronted by Noya’s pillow abuse. “To tell ya the truth, it doesn’t really surprise me. He used to look at you all the time. Usually when you weren’t paying attention. Awed-like, ya know? But everyone looks at you like that. Hard not to with you bein’ how you are.”

Noya cocks his head, confused. “How I am?”

“Pretty fuckin’ cool. Coolest guy I know, in fact.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Noya says with a snicker. 

Tanaka shrugs and stretches out on the mat, hands folding to cradle his head. “Only tellin’ the truth, sunflower. Sometimes even I’m blinded by it and we’re practically Siamese. Imagine it for someone who isn’t in the know.”

“But it’s not like I don’t talk to Asahi ever. And we’ve hung out outside of school and club.”

“I’ve seen you look at ‘im, too.”

Noya stills, his fingers clenching into the pillow’s fluffy material. Apparently his wandering eyes hadn’t gone unnoticed. God damn it.

“You knew?”

Tanaka snorts. “Are you shitting me? Of course I knew. I was waitin’ to see how long it’d be before  _you_  knew.”

God.

Damn.

It.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?!” Noya pauses and drags a hand down his face, groaning. “Wait, does  _everyone_  know or...?

“Pretty sure it’s just me. Took me a bit to get there ‘cause you get as stupid as I do when we’re around girls and Asahi’s the ace, so you could’ve been fixated on him ‘cause you wanted to keep the team together. But then it started happenin’ with other guys, too. So I thought, ‘maybe he’s into both’.”

Noya blinks. “Other guys?”

“Saw ya checkin’ out Chikara a couple of times during stretch downs. Nothin’ like how you look at Asahi, but not exactly subtle either. At least, not to me.” 

“He had nice calves! I was admirin’ them not in the way that’s weird or anything!” But, with his face burning hot like the summer sun, Noya knows Tanaka’s observation isn’t entirely inaccurate. He vaguely recalls having glanced at Ennoshita and maybe a couple of other guys in their year in a not so platonic way, but at the time he’d managed to convince himself that it was either some form of awe or curiosity or both. “At least, I didn’t think it was weird at the time. Mostly,” he corrects himself, “mostly not weird.”

“You don’t gotta explain. Chikara does have some nice calves, though,” Tanaka agrees, his voice catching before he can elaborate further. “But I don’t think you got anythin’ to worry about. I mean, if you don’t want anyone else knowin’ you, ya know, bat for both teams. Not everyone’s as attuned to your tells, but that’s probably ‘cause we’re on the same wavelength or something.”

“Sports allegory? Seriously?” Noya laughs before he rubs his face and forces himself back on track. “Are you sure no one else knows?”

Tanaka mulls this over, face scrunched, finger scratching his cheek. “About you? Nah. About Asahi? That’s a different story. He’s pretty close to Daichi and Suga. I’d bet my next allowance that if he hasn’t told them anything yet, they’d have figured it out by now. Especially Suga. You know, for someone who’s so sugary and nice, he’s a pretty sly bastard underneath.”

“Did you just refer to our revered mother as a ‘sly bastard’?”

“How do you think he got us to help the first years with extra clean up without even having to ask?”

“I thought that was our idea!”

“Shows how much you know then.”

“Hm.” They’re silent for a few minutes, the background noise of the game buzzing in Noya’s head like a buffer to thoughts that are still confusing, but relatively clearer now that he’s spewed some of it out into the open. His knee nudges Tanaka’s leg. “What do you think I should do? Am I supposed to wait for him to call me or something? Or is it supposed to be me that does the calling? God, why is this shit so complicated?”

“Are ya seriously askin’ me that?” Tanaka snorts. “I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to ask Kiyoko out for the last year instead of trippin’ over my feet every time she walks by me. Can’t even wrap my head around tryin’ to deal with that when it comes to a guy, but it can’t be any harder than talkin’ to girls, right?”

“Which I also have zero experience in,” Noya grumbles, picking at the scab on ankle from his last spectacular dive. “Thanks for the reminder, though. Good lookin’ out.”

“All right, fine. If I had to give you advice, which I should probably follow if I don’t wanna die a virgin someday, I’d say call him up. Test the waters. See if the temperature’s somethin’ you can dig before you wade in.”

“Huh?”

Tanaka rolls his eyes. “Ask him to hang out, dumbass. You guys have hung out before, right? It’ll be chill. No weirdness, no deep conversation shit. Just hang out and be yourself and see where it goes from there.”

“You sound so wise and omniscient when you’re all serious business,” Noya says with a touch of reverence. “It’s makin’ me all tingly with brother bear pride.”

Tanaka sits up and clutches his chest, his expression contorted and wobbly like Noya had just given him the best compliment in the history of compliments. “You know I get weirdly emotional when you say stuff like that, man.”

“You really should take your own advice, though.”

“Way to kill the mood, asshole.”

* * *

 

Later that night, after exhausting his entire guidebook knowledge on kicking Tanaka’s ass at Tekken some more, Noya debates taking him up on his advice. He waits until Tanaka leaves, puts it off some more while he mulls over it through a longer-than-usual shower, and finally, when he’s rolled himself into the thin blanket he usually sleeps in, he stares at his phone as though the device would get it over with and magically do it for him.

He pulls up Asahi’s contact information, staring at the characters of his name until he’s gone cross-eyed and slightly lightheaded. He should call him. It wouldn’t be weird to call him, except now it’s probably too late and he’ll end up looking inconsiderate. Or desperate. Even though it’s been a couple of days since the button incident and Asahi has yet to reach out to him. 

Finally, he decides that whatever is left of his resolve will probably be gone by morning he should probably do it now before his inspired burst of confidence dwindles and he’s back to staring at Asahi’s name again. He sucks in a lung-full of air and holds it in, fingertip skimming over the call button.

A few rings in, he nearly loses his nerve when the line picks up.

“Mmphfff,” comes the response, before Asahi mumbles a very confused, “Nishinoya?”

Noya’s stomach plummets and his heart jumps high enough to probably lodge into his throat permanently, both sensations equally frightening considering the prone position he’s currently in. He tries to quietly clear his throat, which is harder than he thinks it would be and ends up half-choking on his own spit in the process. 

“Hey, Asahi,” he starts, tugging his bangs down the line of his nose. 

He grimaces when he hears Asahi grunt and shift on the other end, his voice considerably more awake than when he first answered. “H-Hey yourself. Is something wrong? You’ve never called this late before.”

Wrong?  _Wrong?_  Noya seriously debates this question because something definitely feels wrong, but he’s not sure if it’s just the hoard of angry insects nesting in his gut or if this is all just a very bad, very stupid idea.

“I- uh, nah, nothin’ wrong. I just wondered if you were doing anything on Saturday.”

“Saturday?” The confusion returns in Asahi’s voice. Maybe a little hesitation. 

Noya deflates a bit, but barrels through what he wants to say before he gives in to the urge to hang up mid-call. “Yeah, Saturday. A friend of mine is doing this small-time art gig and I thought we could go. Maybe grab some lunch beforehand.”

“O-Oh, right, um,” and then Asahi pauses, more rustling scratching the reception before he continues, “yeah, that sounds good. I’ve never been to an art show before.”

“You’re shittin’ me. Never?!”

Asahi chuckles, the sound deeper than he’s used to hearing, probably from the sleep deprivation Noya is currently putting him through. Noya focuses on the pitch of it, the way it rolls through the line and into the hazy mush his brain is in danger of turning into.

“Yes, never. Is that so surprising?”

Now it’s Noya’s turn to laugh. “Well, no, I guess not. This should be pretty interesting for you, then. The gig’s at three, so I thought we could meet up around noon.” Then he adds as an afterthought, “if that’s cool with you, I mean.”

“Noon would be great. Where do you want to meet?”

“I dunno. Train station closest to school? Unless you want me to take the train to your house or something?”

“A-Ah, no, that’s not necessary. It’s probably out of the way. I can meet you by the station near the school.”

“Great!” Noya palms his face, internally groaning at his over-enthusiasm. “I’ll see ya then.”

“See you.” There’s a pause on Asahi’s end before Noya hears a very quiet, “Goodnight, Nishinoya.”

“Night, Asahi.”

When the call ends, Noya grins as he drifts off, the phone still clutched in his hand.

Maybe, just maybe, things might not be as awkward after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the stellar reception of the first chapter! It was an awesome surprise and I went completely balls-out ajlkfdjgoamaldfgj because wow, people have been amazing with their commentary and it really is part of my driving force to keep writing. So mahalo and I hope you enjoyed the update! :D
> 
> -H


	3. The One With the Art Gig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asahi and Noya attend an art show and Asahi is shown a little glimpse into a part of Noya's life that most people don't get to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little longer than usual. I hadn't really planned on it, but it kinda ran away with me and now we have this. Whoops. haha 
> 
> Just an fyi, all of the sibling information aside from Tanaka's canon sibling is shit I made up because I really like the idea of Noya and Asahi having that larger familial setting. They're integral to parts of the plot, so I didn't just put them there on whim. Not really. Okay, maybe a little. lol 
> 
> Most of the settings are also made up because it doesn't actually say where they live or what part of Miyagi Karasuno is in (even though parts in this chapter and in future chapters are backed by some research), so if anything feels off, please let me know. :D Happy reading!

Saturday looms closer and Noya isn’t sure if he would rather time speed up or slow down. 

Overthinking has never been a problem, has never been something to put him on edge, to leave him restless enough that even his sleeping habits are taking a major hit. He’s probably played enough rounds of Tekken to make Tanaka weep with Noya’s iron hold on the undefeated title. And all to shut his brain off and keep it from trying to short circuit itself. 

Though plans have been made, albeit not as casually executed as he would have liked, there’s still that lingering confusion that eats away at his gut and messes with his thoughts in the midnight hours when he’s normally relaxed enough to sleep like the dead.

By Friday night, his nerves are jumpier than usual as he stares at his closet, eyes squinting at his choice of clothing. While his normal appearance gives off an air of casual coolness, only Tanaka is aware of the amount of time it actually takes for Noya to get his signature laid back look.

“Just wear one of the t-shirts you usually got on,” Tanaka says over speaker phone while Noya busies himself scrounging around for his favorite shirt. “Where you guys goin’ again?”

“Art gig,” Noya responds from somewhere in the depths of his teeny tiny closet. He pushes aside a new stack of freshly laundered shirts after making sure the one he’s looking for isn’t squished in between. For someone whose daily wardrobe consists of jeans and a t-shirt outside of his school uniform, he’s somewhat surprised at the amount of clothing he’s actually accumulated.  _Perks of not having grown in the last two years_ , he thinks with a snort. “One of Sadashi’s friends took an interest in some of my stuff, so I gave him a few and he said he was gonna pick one and put it on display.”

“No shit?!” There’s a crackle on the other end of the line, followed by an audible sniffle. 

Noya raises a brow before he busts out laughing. “I can hear your crocodile tears from here, ya know.”

Tanaka sniffs sharply in response. “The awesomeness! I can’t take iiiiiit!”

“Be a pal and slide the excess over ‘cause my awesomeness is currently reduced to my inability to pick a shirt. Can I get a refund for that? I think it’s broken.” 

“You’ll always be the most awesome to me.”

“Right through the heart, precious flower.” Noya rubs the back of his neck, heat rising in his cheeks as a grin spreads wide. “Don’t make me confiscate your man-card again.”

“Hey, can ya blame me for thinkin’ my best friend’s one of the coolest guys I know?!”

“Pretty sure your cool factor far exceeds mine by a long shot. Now, will ya pay attention and help me choose something to wear?!” With a pause, he holds up two black shirts, identical save for the quirky adages screen-printed onto the back of one and the front of the other. “Maybe I should just go sans shirt.”

“Oh yeah, good idea, bro. While you’re at it, can ya take a picture of Asahi’s face ‘cause I’ve never seen a tall ass tree nosebleed before.”

“Tall ass tree?” Noya snickers before tossing both shirts on top of the jeans he’s already picked out. “You’ve been watching that show, haven’t you? The one with people flying around with those cool box things.”

“The one with the titans, yeah. I keep tellin’ ya to watch it.”

“The titans look kinda warped. I’d totally rock that box thing, though.”

“3D maneuver gear!” Tanaka corrects with gusto. “Yeah, man! Can you picture us flying around with those things like  _whooshhhh_  and  _whoaaaa_!”

“Totally! And there’s that short guy - the badass with the spin thing--” He catches himself and rubs one of the shirts across his face. “Shit, okay, we’re gettin’ off track again.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Tanaka says with a chuckle. “I dunno. Pick a shirt, any shirt. It’s just Asahi and you’re just hangin’ out.”

“I know. I just-- I’m nervous, all right? Is it weird that I’m nervous?”

“Well,” Tanaka says, pausing while he seems to consider the question, “it does kinda seem off for you. Not your style to overthink shit, ya know? But,” and he pauses again, but Noya has the feeling it’s for a different reason than the first, “he did give you the thing and it’s hard not to wonder about that. Especially since he hasn’t mentioned it. And he hasn’t called or texted you since you decided it was a good idea to wake him from the dead at ungodly hours.”

Noya makes a frustrated noise and tugs his bangs hard enough that he faceplants into the pile of clothes strewn on his closet floor. “Way to build up my confidence. I’m so glad I have you to pour salt over my wounds,” he grumbles, the sound muffled in the sea of cotton. 

“You should know what it feels like; you used to do it to Asahi when he first came back after he ditched for a month.” Tanaka laughs and even though Noya knows the comment is supposed to be teasing, he feels the guilt bubble in his gut nonetheless. When he doesn’t respond, Tanaka’s voice hints at worry. “Yo, you okay? Did I lose you?”

“’m still here,” Noya mumbles into the shirt pile. 

“The hell are you doin’? You sound far away, like you got the phone pressed to your face or somethin’.”

“Nothin’. I think I’m givin’ up on this shit. You’re right; too much thinking. It’s gettin’ me rattled for no reason.” Noya extracts himself from his current position and forces himself away from his closet and all the wardrobe decisions. Plopping down on the futon, he grunts as he tries to find a more comfortable position. “I’m gonna try to sleep. If I need an emergency bail out tomorrow, I’ll text ya.”

“What, like if shit gets deep-conversation weird or if he tries to get all up on you?”

“’Get all up on me’?” Noya snickers. “You do realize this is Asahi we’re talkin’ about, right?”

“I’m just tryin’ to gauge scenarios. Gotta protect your virtue and all.”

“Bromeo through and through.” Noya clutches his chest and exaggerates a gasp. “Be still my heart.”

“Gotta keep the bromance alive!”

“Don’t fall off your imaginary trellis. Passin’ out now,” Noya laughs, the sound interrupted as he stifles a yawn. “Night, lemon drop.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Keep your wet dreams to a minimum,” Tanaka shoots back, not bothering to hide his own yawn. “Night, jelly bean. Talk to ya tomorrow. I better get all the tabloid deets when you’re done.”

“Full play by play,” Noya mumbles before he vaguely remembers hanging up and everything else goes dark. 

* * *

 

Doubt is a bitch. 

In an effort to save time, Noya texts Asahi as he boards the train. He tells himself that he’s just being proactive, that he means to shave minutes off their travel time by asking Asahi to board the train he’s already on instead of getting off and reboarding. But really, it’s a way for him to double check, to make sure that Asahi would come as planned. There isn’t any reason for Noya to think otherwise, but the nerves from the night before still haven’t dissipated and without any communication since the invite was given, it’s left a small window of doubt. It isn’t much, but it creeps into his thoughts and tangles with all the crap already in his head. Devil’s Snare warping him out in the worst possible way. And so he texts. Just in case. Just to be sure.

 **Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: mornin! sorry, i’m runnin a little late  
[text]: i’m just boardin now  
[text]: but i should be comin into the station in about 20  
[text]: would you mind gettin on the 1215 so i dont have to get off? 

He stares at the last line and instantly flushes. Now is not the time to send his brain to the gutter, but just in case, he sends another text before Asahi can reply.

 **Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: off the train*  
[text]: i meant get off the train

He’s out of breath, having sprinted to the station in a hurry when his alarm failed to wake him, and a familiar burn settles in his muscles by the time he slumps into one of the seats near the back of the train. 

It’s a few minutes before Asahi’s response dings and it takes Noya a second to realize he’s sucked in a breath he hasn’t let loose before he checks the message. 

 **Received From: asahi**  
[text]: I know what you meant. :)  
[text]: I’m already at the station so it should be no problem.  
[text]: See you in a bit.

Noya stares at his phone, a little thrown. Asahi had not only shown up, he’d been early. It shouldn’t have surprised him; Asahi usually doesn’t make it a point to be late. But still. He appreciates the effort, even if Asahi couldn’t have known about the doubt. Noya scoffs at his own ridiculousness, pops his earbuds in, and relaxes in his seat. By the time the train pulls into the station near the school, he’s completely forgotten about his earlier freak out, his head bobbing slightly to the beat of the new track Tanaka recommended the day before while his hand finishes the rough sketch portraits of random passengers he doodled on the way.

When he spots Asahi, he waves him over and tugs off the earbuds, stuffing the iPod back into his jacket pocket and closing the sketchbook flap for good measure. He hopes Asahi doesn’t ask about it; it’d be pretty hard to explain some of the images without hauling in a truckload of awkward.

The first thing he notices is Asahi's attire. It's usually what catches his eye, the first impression of anything, and Asahi definitely doesn't disappoint. Noya takes in the casual wear, something he's still not used to seeing because any other time he's hung out with Asahi had been after school, which meant uniforms or the club's usual track suit. But this is something else entirely.

Asahi looks considerably more relaxed, more in his element, and Noya finds himself giving Karasuno's former ace an involuntary once over as Asahi makes his way over to where Noya is currently sitting. He straightens up, one hand clamped around the metal pole in front of the armrest, and forces himself to stop staring. Or makes an attempt, anyway. It's probable that this would be one of those times he'd text Tanaka to talk him out of a stupid thing while simultaneously doing the stupid thing to begin with.

He shakes his head and blinks. Asahi looks somewhat confused by the gesture, but if he thinks it's strange in any way, he makes no mention of it before he deposits himself into the seat right next to Noya.

Noya grins. "You made it! Were you waitin’ long?"

"Ah, a bit, but it's all right. I brought along a book just in case," Asahi says, the covered volume in one hand as he adjusts his wool jacket with the other and leans forward, forearms braced on the bends of his knees.

"Didn't know you were a bookworm," Noya blurts before he realizes that the intonation is all wrong, that it sounds more like a jab at Asahi instead of the pleasantly surprised reaction he was going for. So he redirects, “What book is it?”

“I, ah...” Asahi instantly looks nervous and stuffs the reading material into the inside pocket of his coat. He chuckles, a dusting of pink on his cheeks. “It’s nothing too interesting. Just something my sister recommended from work.”

The mention of Asahi’s sister piques Noya’s curiosity. Even outside of club activities, they had only really talked about school and their friends and things dealing with the volleyball club like training regiments and new techniques. It dawns on Noya that he knows next to nothing about Asahi outside of school and sports and the thought prompts him to blurt things out without any mind to boundaries. 

“You have a sister?! Does she work at a bookstore? That must be really cool of her to take an interest in what you like and recommend shi--” He clears his throat. “--stuff. I meant stuff. Sorry, Sometimes I forget it’s not Ryuu I’m talking to.”

Asahi’s brows furrow, the action subtle enough that most people wouldn’t have noticed, but Noya’s hyper-awareness when it comes to Asahi catches the slight before Asahi’s expression reverts back to its gentle resting state. He nods and picks at the cuff of his jacket. 

“Yeah, though she’s not the typical sister I suppose. She’s a little rougher around the edges considering what she does for a living and she’s usually in my ear about taking better care of myself. More than my mother even.”

“’Rougher around the edges’?” Noya repeats, trying to imagine someone from Asahi’s gene pool with that description. “Kinda like Ryuu’s sister?”

Again, the mention of Tanaka causes the same reaction as before, though it lingers a second longer. “I guess so? Not as wild, though. But I guess being the only girl kind of helped Chihaya turn out that way.” He pauses and scratches his cheek. “She’s a little like your mom, if I had to really make a comparison. Though to be fair, I only talked to your mom for a little while at the car wash, so I don’t know how accurate I’d be.”

“My mom? That’s kinda scary.” Noya distinctly remembers the car wash. Or more accurately, his reaction to his mother commenting on Asahi’s lack of a shirt in the same instance she was handing over a dry one to replace the one Noya had drenched. “Sorry ‘bout that, by the way. My mom’s weird sometimes.”

“It’s all right. I appreciated the clean shirt.” Asahi’s mouth twitches into the faintest grin and Noya’s brain short circuits for a second before he has to remind himself that there isn’t going to be any weirdness today. “And Chihaya’s not so bad either, most of the time. You get used to it “ 

“So you have brothers then?”

“Two, actually. Kenji lives in Osaka with his wife and son. Arata--” 

The train gives a sudden jerk, causing Noya to bump into Asahi’s side, before it eases to a stop. “Shi--Shoot! Sorry!” 

He straightens and sheepishly grins just as the doors open for the slew of new passengers. One of them deposits herself on Noya’s other side, the phone call she’s on making it hard to continue the conversation without yelling at each other to compete with being heard. After the third stop, the abundance of empty seats dwindle as does the privacy for any sort of decent conversation, leaving them to exchange quiet glances between destinations. By the fourth stop, the train is full on their end, leaving no room for the elderly couple attempting to make it into the car before the doors hiss shut behind them. Noya immediately jumps up, hiking an eyebrow and shooting a threatening glare at the guy trying to score his seat before he can give it to the elderly lady scanning the aisle. 

“Excuse me,” he says, tapping her shoulder before he gestures next to Asahi. “You can take that one.”

“Such a nice young man. It’s rare to see good manners nowadays.” She smiles at Noya, warm and grateful, and gently brushes a hand over her companion’s arm to show him which direction to go. “Thank you for the seat.”

Noya grins, happy that he could be of help, and isn’t surprised at all when Asahi stands from his own seat to offer it to the lady’s companion. The same guy tries to make a grab for that and instantly, Noya’s riled up like someone just insulted his mother. “What the hell’s your prob--”

A hand presses against his chest to halt him mid-accusation, the weight subtle but firm. Asahi keeps his hand there, but his gaze steels as he directs it at the guy who, in all honesty, looks like he could probably do some serious damage had Noya gotten out his entire tirade. It’s silent for a few seconds. Then Asahi’s jaw subtly clenches and he takes a step toward the guy who shrinks back in response, a little fearful. Maybe more than a little

“Still the same old Nishinoya,” Asahi says with a fond chuckle, taking his place next to Noya and grabbing one of the pulleys protruding from the roof. As though the last thirty seconds hadn’t happened. As though he didn’t just do something totally out of character and prompt Noya to consider what else could be hiding beneath that wimpy exterior. 

Noya blinks and focuses, instead, on Asahi’s laughter. The sound paves through him like gravel, low and hoarse, briefly reminding Noya of the late night conversation they had. 

“Can’t believe some people. Honestly. Did you see him tryin’ to dive into one of the seats?”

“Ah, yeah, but I doubt he’ll try anything now with you staring at him like that.” 

“He’s lucky that’s all I was doin’,” Noya mutters under his breath before lurching forward, his face landing squarely against Asahi’s chest. “’mmmphff,” is all he can manage sandwiched between the taller boy and the girthy passenger behind him who doesn’t seem at all keen to move away. He tries to glance up at Asahi, which in fairness is a pretty difficult feat considering how tall he is, all apologies as he shifts in an attempt to detach himself. 

“Th-That’s okay, you can stay there,” Asahi says, looking mildly concerned with Noya’s efforts. He places a hand behind Noya to keep the other passenger from shoving into them any more than he already has. “Besides, I’m not sure you can comfortably reach the pulley and it could be dangerous if you don’t have anything else to hold on to.”

“Oh, right. Um,” Noya says, bunching his brows together while he marinates the offer. The weight of Asahi’s hand rests at the small of his back, still intent on the barrier between him and space-hoarding guy trying to get in his personal space. “You sure?”

Asahi does, in fact, look a little unsure, but offers a smile nonetheless. “I don’t really think we have another alternative.” 

He must have caught the subtle glance Noya has given his arm because he makes to retract it before Noya grasps his forearm to stop him. 

“That can stay. Just keep him far enough away that I don’t have to worry about butt rubbing, yeah?”

Asahi blinks. “Butt... rubbing?” 

“Yeah. I think there might have been some grazing, too.”

“Oh, uh, th-that might have been my hand,” Asahi stammers, “Sorry about that.”

Noya feels the heat flood his face. It’s okay, it’s all good. He’s got this. Having Asahi do the deed is infinitely better than some creep on the train trying to manhandle the goods, but still. 

Thinking about Asahi’s hand. 

Near his ass. 

He forces a swallow. And smiles wide. Natural-like. 

At least, he hopes.

“Better you than the guy behind me!” Almost immediately, he mentally kicks himself. Maybe in the shins where it doles out the most pain next to his southern regions. 

_Not the time to be thinkin’ about my, uh..._

Scrunching his face, he squeezes his eyes shut for a quick second before giving his head a little shake. 

Focus. 

Air in. Air out. 

Not weird. 

But even with his silent pep talk, he finds it difficult not to pay attention to the smallest things: the mixture of springtime detergent and some sort of sporty aftershave, the subtle way Asahi’s chest pulls in and expands, the small puffs of air above him when Asahi exhales. 

He’s almost tempted to inch forward. Just a fraction. Enough to breathe in deep and commit the scent to memory without it looking like he’s trying to sniff his former teammate in a way that would come off creepy. But before he can marinate further, their destination is called and soon, the train jerks again and eases to a complete stop. 

“This is us,” Noya informs him, glancing around while the other passengers disembark. Asahi’s hand leaves his back. The loss of it, the absence of the familiar weight, causes a momentary disappointment. He hastily shoves the thought away and follows Asahi out onto the platform. 

 _It was just to keep that guy from bumping into me_ , he reminds himself.

“Are you all right, Nishinoya?”

Without missing a beat, hands on his hips and head thrown back like a proud peacock, Noya nods, exhuberant grin at the ready. “Yep!” And before Asahi can comment further, Noya grabs his arm, adding, “now, c’mon! There’s this stellar ramen place near the studio that’ll make your mouth water!” 

* * *

 

"Can I get you both anything else?”

The server smiles. A shy, sort of hesitant smile that Noya thinks is actually kind of cute until she directs it at Asahi. His insides clench. Warped and new and bewildering. It isn’t the first time he’s seen someone smile at Asahi that way; even with this older appearance and misunderstood reputation, Noya has played witness to a few confessions directed at the older boy. All post-cute, hesitant smile. All awkwardly rejected. Noya used to wonder if it was because Asahi is all big heart, soft and gentle around the edges despite his larger frame, but without the social capacity to understand what to do in those situations. Now he wonders if it’s because of something else. 

Suddenly he’s back on that train, Asahi’s handkerchief clutched in his hand. He makes a quiet, frustrated noise and forcibly stops himself from rubbing his face. 

Asahi glances at him, tentative smile tugging the corner of his mouth. He gestures for Noya to respond. “I think I’m all right. Did you need something, Nishinoya?”

But before Noya can answer, the waitress’s face scrunches, her fingers grasping the order pad a little tighter as she blurts out, “You’re Nishinoya Yuu, right?”

Noya blinks, a little taken aback at being recognized, and lets out a burst of laughter. “Yeah! Do I know ya from somewhere?”

The girl glances toward the kitchen and Noya is surprised to find a few others standing there, peeking from behind the cloth divider. When he turns his attention back to her, he notes the subtle pink on her cheeks, the brightness of her gaze. It reminds him of the way Hinata looks at his own hand in awe after every spike.

“Um, I don’t think so? But a few of us went to Chidoriyama and remember you from there. Then we heard about your win over Aoba Josai and saw your match with Shiratorizawa.” She pauses and after another look toward the kitchen, gushes, “You were amazing! Even the almost-saves looked pretty rad!”

Her latter statement comes out a bit breathless, the glimmer in her eyes amplifying. He remembers Tanaka’s comment about him being how he is and instantly, Noya feels the embarrassment creep up cheeks, warm and not entirely unpleasant. His reaction to receiving compliments needs a little work, though, especially when he’s blindsided and not suffering from exhaustion after a game or practice. 

“Thanks! You guys go to a lot of matches?” he asks, all smiles now that the dangers of confessions directed at Asahi are a no go. “But seriously, I really couldn’t have done all of that without the team I played with!”

He steals a meaningful look at Asahi, but the other boy is busy toying with the chopsticks partially submerged in his ramen broth. 

Right.

He’s on a date thing. No, outing thing. With a teammate. Former teammate. Definitely not a date. 

But still, he can’t help but notice the uncomfortable way Asahi is going at his noodles with those poor chopsticks. 

The waitress laughs, like wind chimes. Pleasant, easy on the ears. She shakes her head. “Not really, no. Just yours and a few others. My brother played for Shiratorizawa and my friend sort of had a crush on Kitagawa Daiichi’s setter the year before last. He’s a year younger than you. They called him ‘King of the Court’?”

“Kageyama? Oh shit--” Noya flinches and glances at Asahi again. “Shoot! I meant shoot!” he says with a tug of his bangs. “I heard he was grumpier then than when I met him and that’s sayin’ a lot!”

“That’s him!” she agrees with a nod, then drops to a whisper, “I told her she needed to find someone who maybe wasn’t so intense.”

“He’s still that way,” Noya says, laughing. Asahi shifts in his seat, the gesture subtle but not lost. Noya pretends to check his phone for the time. "Ah crap, we really gotta eat before this thing we’re goin’ to. It was nice seein’ ya, though...” He trails off and raises a brow, just now realizing he doesn’t even know her name. 

“Oops, sorry! Ushijima Kira,” she says, with that same tentative smile, but this time, unmistakably directed at him. “Enjoy your food and let me know if I can get you anything else.”

“Will do! Thanks!”

Noya watches her scurry off to her friends, still on a bit of a high from all the fawning when it dawns on him that Asahi hasn’t said a word throughout the entire conversation. He nudges Asahi’s foot underneath the table and questioningly tilts his head sideways.

“You okay?”

At the sound of Noya’s voice, Asahi comes back from whatever space camp his head’s been in, awkward noodle-playing halting. “What? O-Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Are you ready to eat?”

Noya doesn’t buy it, but Asahi isn’t exactly offering up an oasis of information either. After both spouting an enthusiastic (semi-enthusiastic on Asahi’s end) “itadakimasu!”, they simultaneously dig in, all conversation nearly nonexistent as Noya’s stomach goes into full dictator mode. 

* * *

 

The short walk to the makeshift art gallery a few blocks away fills Noya with a sense of relief. An odd silence has settled between them; not exactly awkward, but not entirely pleasant either. Something gnaws at the older boy. It doesn’t take Kageyama’s volleyball genius to see that. Besides, maybe it has nothing to do with him. Nix that. It probably doesn’t have anything to do with him and he’s blowing it out of proportion because, well, that’s what he  _does_. 

They’re nearly at the entrance when Asahi’s arm accidentally brushes against him. Totally not on purpose. Noya momentarily stiffens, but doesn’t move away, the added weight to his side something he finds nice despite his initial reaction. From surprise, he tells himself. Other reasons, too. But mostly surprise.

Asahi finally speaks up, his voice a little hoarse. Like he’s kept it bottled up and the lack of use made it rusty. “She seemed nice.”

“Huh?” It takes Noya a second to figure out who Asahi is talking about. “The waitress who took the order?” he clarifies, holding the door to the gallery open and motioning Asahi inside. “Yeah, she was nice enough. I can’t believe her friend had a crush on Kageyama! Ryuu’s gonna have a field day with that. Even with that resting bitchface, baby crow’s still got game.”

“You seemed to really get along. But you always did get along with everyone,” Asahi says with a sort of wonder. His mouth quirks with a pensive smile. “It usually takes me a little while before I--”

“Nishinoya-kun! You made it!”

Asahi looks a bit startled at having been cut off. They both turn toward the voice to find a guy with two-toned hair and about half a dozen facial piercings hurrying toward them. 

“Kensho-san! What’s good?” Noya greets him with an enthusiastic grin and a semi-complicated handshake before tugging him forward, chests bumping coupled with a few pats on his back. Wataya Kensho is one of the few who can actually keep up with his secret clubhouse handshakes and he lets out a chuckle, glad that not all his sister’s new friends are certified weirdos. He steps back and gestures toward Asahi. “This is Asa-- I mean, Azumane-san.”

“Welcome, welcome!” Kensho attempts to repeat the handshake with Asahi, the result more hilarious than it should be considering Asahi’s embarrassment and obvious awkwardness with the execution. “Glad one of our most talked-about artists came with an escort. What kinda art are ya into, bro? I don’t think I’ve seen ya at uni before.”

“Oh, I’m not an artist- I mean, I don’t go to--” Asahi begins, overwhelmed like he always gets when people assume things because he looks older than he is, but Noya zooms in for the save.

“Don’t let the goatee and long hair fool ya. He actually went to school with me. Just graduated last week, as a matter of fact,” he says with a touch of pride. Whatever Asahi’s reservations are about his own academic standings, just the determination of seeing it through to graduation with all of the anxiety Noya knows can sometimes infect Asahi’s headspace - he can’t help but feel an immense amount of accomplishment on behalf of his former teammate. “He was the ace on the volleyball team I’m on. You should’ve come to one of the games. Man oh man, his spikes were like--!” Noya imitates the motion and proceeds to expand his hands, mimicking an explosion with extra flair.

Kensho gives Asahi a more detailed look than his previous once-over and Noya can see the cogs whirring, can see the judgement forming based on Asahi’s appearance alone. Noya’s often told Asahi that it might be the hair giving him that old man vibe, but usually doesn’t get into it more than a few light remarks here and there for fear that Asahi might read into it more than is psychologically necessary. Besides, he kind of likes Asahi’s hair the way it is. The goatee, too, if he’s admitting things to the void.

Even if he’s never thought to voice it out loud. To anyone. Ever. Not even to Tanaka, though it really wouldn’t surprise him if Tanaka knows, considering his disturbingly accurate observations. 

God damn super-spy skills. 

Asahi chuckles and to Noya’s surprise, it doesn’t sound as embarrassed as he expects. Though there’s a faint tint of color on Asahi’s cheeks, he does nothing to denigrate the comment and even reciprocates the high-five Kensho gives him with a look of awe. “Never mind about me, though,” Asahi says, seemingly a little flustered with the attention now. He moves a little closer to Noya and gives him a small nudge. “What’s this about ‘one of the most talked-about artists’?”

“You didn’t know? A few of his pieces are up on display. I’ve even got some bids on them for the sale portion of the show later.” 

The comment seems to have thoroughly impressed Asahi, his eyes widening a bit before he glances at the art-laden wall. Noya follows Asahi’s gaze and extends further, something near the back of the room catching his eye. 

“Sorry, be back in a sec,” he says, slipping away before Asahi can protest. 

Shit. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

He disappears into the crowd and reaches the far wall, stopping in front of a framed portrait. Wide, thoughtful, droopy eyes. Thick brows. Sharp, angled jaw. Slightly sloped nose and thin, curved lips showing a pensive smile Noya has ingrained into his memory. The rough lines and gradient pressure are familiar; so familiar that it takes a second for him to realize the loud beating in his ears matches the erratic thumps trying to make its drum line debut from somewhere inside his chest cavity.

“What the hell,” he mutters, stealing a glance back where he’s left Asahi with Kensho. “This wasn’t supposed to be included in that stack I gave him.” He tugs his bangs and a frustrated noise escapes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He bangs his head on the wall next to the artwork and shuts his eyes. Maybe he can convince Asahi to stay away from the back of the gallery. Make up some kind of excuse or distract him with other pieces until it’s time to go. With another pinched noise, he steps back, takes one last loathsome look at the portrait, and weaves through the crowd to look for Asahi before he can make an unfortunate detour into the restricted area. 

When he finally locates him, he’s standing in front of one of Noya’s pieces, jaw slack in open admiration. It’s a mountain expanse near the lodge they stayed in during training camp, a scene carefully committed to memory. A reminder for the hard work he endured, the bruises he suffered, the connection to a team that became more than a team. Something closer, something akin to family, something real and tangible and unbreakable that tethers him. Noya remembers the sunset vividly, its yellows and oranges and pinks blending together with the midnight blue encroaching at the edges. The entire team had been there - the only day that ended early enough for them to witness one of the most spectacular views Noya has ever seen.

“You... did this?” Asahi’s voice has a touch of reverence, a rare cadence that Asahi only shows in special circumstances - Hinata’s spikes, Suga’s tosses, Noya’s saves. But his expression now, it surpasses even that. “This is something else. N-Not bad. Sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out that way. I just...  _wow_.”

Noya feels a burst of pride. Not with his usual over-the-top exuberance, but quieter, more personal. He shoves his hands into his pockets and grins. “Wow’s good. I’ll take the ‘wow’. You remember that ridge from training camp?”

“Yeah, I do. It was one of my favorite moments when we were up there. Everything was kind of quiet. Still. Really beautiful, you know? The picture kind of makes me miss it.”

“We could go back,” Noya says absentmindedly. When he realizes that it’s the second time he’s initiated an invitation when Asahi has initiated none, he sucks in a breath, fully intent on saying something that makes it sound not as eager as it does in his head. 

“I’d like that,” Asahi says before Noya can backtrack.

Despite himself, Noya grins. 

* * *

 

Later, as they’re leaving the gallery after having successfully thwarted Asahi from coming anywhere near the restricted area, Kensho catches Noya before he makes it out the door. 

“Wait! Nishinoya-kun!” Kensho takes a second to catch his breath. “All your artwork sold!”

“No shit?” He flinches and glances at Asahi. “Shoot. I meant ‘shoot’.”

“’No shit’ is right! We got a few offers for each, but an anonymous buyer beat all of them providing they can buy all three as a set. Wanted to let ya know ‘cause I wanted to see if you maybe had other stuff I can use for other shows I have coming up.”

“Are you kiddin’ me?! H-- uh, yeah, I do! That’s awesome, man. Seriously, thanks. I wasn’t even expectin’ ‘em to sell or anything. Just wanted to see if people would show interest in any of my stuff.”

“That’s an understatement! I’ll text ya later this week and we can set a time for you to show me some more.”

Noya manages to say his goodbyes and express his thank yous again through his euphoric haze. Finally, he’s alone with Asahi once more, the streets a little less crowded than they were during the afternoon bustle. 

Asahi clears his throat and breaks the silence. “You don’t have to keep doing that, you know.”

“Doing what?”

“Catching yourself every time you swear.” Asahi gives Noya’s shoulder a little bump and offers a small smile. “It really doesn’t bother me. In fact, I actually do swear myself. I just try to keep it to a minimum, especially around the first years.”

“No way! I’ve never heard it,” Noya says, his brows pinching together while he tries to remember anything coming out of Asahi that could even remotely count as cursing. 

“I do! Watch,” Asahi says before he dramatically pauses, sucks in a breath, and tentatively continues with a slightly wobbly, “fuck.”

Noya attempts to look somewhat sympathetic, but fails, laughter escaping as he pats Asahi’s shoulder. “That is the most pathetic display of pretend cussin’ I’ve ever been a witness to. And that’s countin’ the time Takeshi said ‘shit’ with his face all scrunched up right after I slipped up in front o’ him.”  

“Hey! I didn’t say it would sound convincing. Just that... I do. Swear sometimes. Usually not when children are present, though.” With a slump of his shoulders, Asahi deflates. It only lasts a fraction of a second, however, before Noya pokes his side and Asahi goes zero to sixty in the form of a very affronted, very ticklish cat as he squirms away from Noya’s prodding finger with a breathy chuckle. “C-Can you not- I mean, it’s just I’m really--” He groans and palms his face, seemingly embarrassed. “T-Ticklish. I’m really ticklish.”

“I’m not a little kid, Asahi. I don’t need your filter. But I’ll keep the other thing in mind for later,” Noya promises with a nod, all mischief and gleaming smile. 

Asahi flushes. “Nishinoya!”

* * *

 

When Asahi gets off at the school train station, it takes Noya all of half a second to text Tanaka on his way home. 

 **Sent To: ryuu**  
[text]: gig went well

Immediately, his phone chimes and he laughs at the quick response, knowing full well that Tanaka had been waiting for a ‘bail me out’ text even though Noya had assured him it probably wouldn’t be necessary. 

 **Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: AND?   
[text]: weirdness factor? scale of 1-10?

 **Sent To: ryuu**  
[text]: low. prob under 5  
[text]: it was p chill  
[text]: even made plans to hang this wk before school starts again

 **Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: so no virtue compromised?  
[text]: no honor i need to avenge?

 **Sent To: ryuu**  
[text]: nah ur off the hook

 **Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: k good cause asahi looks like he packs a good punch  
[text]: its our third yr n a black eye doesnt exactly scream potential hot guy

 **Sent To: ryuu**  
[text]: u srs? girls dig the bad boy look lol black eye’s like a badge of honor  
[text]: prob gonna knock out when i get home

 **Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: did he mention the button?

With all that had happened, Noya had completely forgotten about the button. Automatically, he feels for his wallet where the item is tucked away before responding.

 **Sent To: ryuu**  
[text]: nope didnt have time. all good tho. had fun anyway  
[text]: sadashi’s friend sold all my work  
[text]: oh n remind me to tell ya about mr grumpy setter’s secret admirer

 **Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: WHAT  
[text]: TELL ME NOW  
[text]: DON’T LEAVE A BRO HANGIN WTF

 **Sent To: ryuu**  
[text]: too much to text n i’m tired af  
[text]: come over tmrw n i’ll tell u then

 **Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: okay okay but only cause sister mine needs me for somethin tmrw  
[text]: shes makin me get up at ass oclock  
[text]: b there after lunch

 **Sent To: ryuu**  
[text]: i dont envy that at all lol  
[text]: sounds like a plan tho  
[text]: ttyt night turdnugget

 **Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: i can hear the fondness n endearment behind that declaration of love  
[text]: night asswad ttyt

He laughs at Tanaka’s last messages before scrolling through his text conversations and opening another chat window.

 **Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: had a good time today  
[text]: thx for comin w/me

When ten minutes pass without a response, Noya figures Asahi has fallen asleep and he’s a little jealous considering he’s still got a fifteen minute walk back to his place after his train stop. But the chime comes just as Noya rounds the corner toward the direction of his house. 

 **Received From: asahi**  
[text]: Thanks for inviting me. :) I had fun and your friends seem nice.  
[text]: I’d  
[text]: Would you mind if I came to the next show? 

Noya stares at the last text with wide eyes. Something warm begins in his chest and spreads until he realizes he’s stopped walking to stare stupidly at his phone, dopey grin in place. 

 **Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: yeah i’d like that  
[text]: i’ll let u know once i have a date for the next thing

 **Received From: asahi**  
[text]: Great. I look forward to it.  
[text]: Goodnight Nishinoya. :)

Biting back another idiotic grin, he responds:

 **Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: me too  
[text]: night asahi. sleep well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed the update! The responses I get from those of you who have taken the time to send a message/comment on AO3 or Tumblr/scream in tags - just know that I appreciate each and every single one and they legit make writing this self-indulgent fic so worthwhile and provide a fantastic source of motivation to work on this on top of other projects I have. <3 You all rock! \\(^0^)/
> 
> As always, feedback is not necessary, but always appreciated! :DD
> 
> -H


	4. The One With the Swish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asahi surprises Noya with a last minute invitation, but it's Noya who ends up being full of surprises.

“Oi, sleeping beauty. Get up.”

“G’way,” Noya mumbles into his pillow, swatting the air above him to get rid of the bad dream in the form of whoever the hell is trying to force him into the waking world. 

“Not gonna happen, bro. I got reamed by Chikara the last time you made us late. Extra dive receives are not on my to-do list before classes, so you better get your ass up or I’ll be forced to drag you kickin’ and screamin’.”

Noya grumbles something unintelligible before managing a barely audible, “’m tremblin’ with fear.”

“Try me.”

Something wet digs into his ear and Noya yelps before flinching away. He groans something that sounds like ‘ugh gross!’, exaggerated and petulant like a child, and makes to get out of bed only to fall off the futon face first on to the tatami mat. “You’re the fuckin’ devil incarnate,” he mutters, still mostly asleep and trying to ignore the way his forehead throbs from where it smacked the floor. 

Tanaka grabs the crook of his arm and yanks him up. He grunts from the exertion and lays on the wheezing, extra thick. “The hell, man. How do you weigh so much when you’re, like, the size of a Keebler elf?”

“That was  _one_  Halloween, okay? And I was five. Let it go, Ryuu.” 

Chucking a towel at Noya, Tanaka ushers him toward the bathroom. “Whatever it takes to get you up and movin’, sunbeam.”

“My foot’ll be up and movin’ up your ass if you don’t quit mother-hen’ing me.”

“Time is of the essence. We got less than forty-five minutes to get to practice and Chikara’s worse than Daichi used to be ‘cause he’s not just on time, but he’s usually  _early_. It’s like he woke up one day and morphed into Old Man Ukai. Seriously, how fucked up is that shit?” Tanaka asks with a mournful sigh. “Now come on! Wouldn’t look right if the new recruits got there before the senpais, now would it?”

“Guess I can shower after practice is over,” Noya says, flinging the towel at Tanaka’s face. He lifts his arm, taking an experimental whiff. “I don’t smell like ass, do I?”

Tanaka leans in and sniffs, shaking his head. If he hadn’t wrinkled his nose at the last second, Noya might have been more convinced. “Like April showers. Okay, maybe April drizzle with a hint of ass. No one’s gonna be all up on you anyway, so no problem.”

“So encouraging,” Noya says with a roll of his eyes. He pulls out a shirt and his school uniform from the stack of clean clothes his mother had left on the floor by his closet and throws it on so quickly that he nearly topples over trying to get his pants on. “Nice to know I only smell like a ‘hint of ass’. Maybe I should bottle it up and sell it.”

“Eau de Noya. Scent of the volleyball gods. Is that what got Asahi jonesin’ or what?”

At the mention of Asahi, heat floods Noya’s face and he busies himself trying to get his clothes on and thrashes around a bit, his head stuck at the opening. 

“Try unbuttoning it, genius,” Tanaka says, thumbing the clasp at the collar. 

“Shut up, I knew that,” Noya mutters just as his mother calls out from somewhere downstairs.

“Yuu! I’m giving your food away if you’re both not down here in the next five seconds!”

He and Tanaka exchange glances before they scramble for the door, Noya grunting at the frame when Tanaka squeezes past him with a triumphant snicker. By the time they make it into the kitchen, he’s tripped twice already and banged his elbow on the banister, all in an effort to beat Tanaka downstairs. His brother, Takeshi, pretends to go after the sausage links next to Noya’s bowl of soup when they barrel toward the eat-in nook, slightly out of breath. “Hands off the goods, rugrat!”

“Who’re you callin’ a rugrat? I’m as tall as you now!” Takeshi says with a laugh big enough to match Noya’s.

“Not much of an accomplishment, little man,” Tanaka quips, swiping a few of the links, much to Noya’s chagrin. He pops them into his mouth and chews obnoxiously before turning to Noya’s mother and declares, “Best sausage I’ve ever had!”

“You know she’ll feed ya even without you tryin’ to kiss her ass, right?” Noya says, picking off a few links for himself.

“Yuu, language,” his mother warns. 

“Why?! Takeshi’s just as bad!” Noya protests over a piece of toast stuffed in his mouth. 

“Yeah, nii-chan,  _language_ ,” Takeshi pipes up, obnoxiously sticking his tongue out. “Remember, I’m impressionable.”

“How ‘bout I make an impression of my shoe up your a--”

“Yuu!” His mother shoots him a pointed look and Noya shrinks back to avoid a lecture when they’re already running late as it is. 

“Kiddin’!” he concedes, downing the rest of his juice as he grabs Tanaka’s arm and hauls him off. Takeshi practically preens when he thinks he’s won and Noya gives his hair an affectionate ruffle on his way out the door. “Don’t let it go to your head, rugrat. Show ‘em who’s boss at practice, yeah? Gotta carry on the Nishinoya name at my alma mater!”

“You know it!” Takeshi beams. “I hope they pick me to be a libero just like you!”

Noya and Tanaka stop short of the exit, hands simultaneously clutching their chests. Noya’s bottom lip wobbles. “Ryuu, I think these are tears.”

“You cry, I cry.”

Takeshi flushes and palms his face. “You two are so embarrassing sometimes.”

* * *

 

They’re two stops away from school when Noya’s phone chimes, earning a raised brow from Tanaka.

 **Received From: asahi**  
[text]: Sorry for the early text. I hope you’re not at practice yet. :)  
[text]: I wanted to know if you wanted to grab a bite to eat after you’re done later?

Noya blinks at his phone and tugs at his bangs; partly because he knows he’s grinning like an idiot and partly because Tanaka’s looking at him with a certain smugness that makes Noya want to kick him in the shins.

 **Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: no worries. still on the train with ryuu  
[text]: food sounds good. wanna meet up at school when practice is thru?

“Early morning texts. Nice,” Tanaka comments with a sly grin when Noya confirms who it is. “When’d that start?”

His phone chimes again and this time, the grin comes out full force.

 **Received From: asahi**  
[text]: And I thought I was finally free from what was it you called it?  
[text]: “the strings of required education”?  
[text]: It’s not going to look weird, is it? Coming to pick you up?

“Not long; a few weeks, maybe?” Noya says with a shrug, typing out a response as he tries to keep the stupid grinning to a minimum. “Usually when I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“How long’s it been?”

Noya pauses mid-text, brows furrowing as he tries to remember. “Uh, three days? Practice and homework - R.I.P. free time.”

“Hey, at least I still get to hang with you. Passing you in the hallway with severe nostalgic longing counts as hangin’ out, right?”

Noya elbows him. “Asshat, you practically live at my place.”

 **Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: nah. we’re just hangin out. nothin weird bout that right?  
[text]: sides, u’ll get to see all the new recruits  
[text]: they’ll prob wet themselves when they find out u used to be the ace lol

 **Received From: asahi**  
[text]: Oh god...

 **Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: i can see u turnin fifty shades of red thru my phone   
[text]: is ur face in ur hand yet?

 **Received From: asahi**  
[text]: No...  
[text]: ....maybe. u_u  
[text]: How’d you know?

 **Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: cause its u lol  
[text]: see ya after practice?

 **Received From: asahi**  
[text]: Yeah, see you later. :)

Suddenly, a flash to his right makes him glance up to find Tanaka holding his phone toward him, shit-eating grin in place. “Aw, precious flower. You’re blushing. Had to capture the Kodak moment.”

Noya swings his school bag upward and lands a blow directly against Tanaka’s chest. “I swear, if you send that to anyone, I’m gonna tell every girl I know how you almost pissed yourself when we watched Paranormal Activity.”

“Ow! Shit!” Tanaka misses the deflection and winces. “Throwin’ me under the bus already. Knew it’d come sooner or later once you and Asahi hooked up,” he says with mock resignation as he pretends to wipe an invisible tear.

“Not hookin’ up,” Noya says, rereading Asahi’s texts one last time while the train slows to a complete stop. Weird flutter things take over his gut and even the thought of extra dive receives aren’t enough to deter his good mood. “Just hangin’ out. No big deal.”

* * *

 

Afternoon practice is pretty grueling considering Noya is still in recovery mode after the military-grade session he’d gone through that morning. His knees are wobbly, muscles strained and aching by the time Ennoshita calls for everyone to start stretch downs. 

“Am I standing, Ryuu?” he asks, forehead planting firmly on Tanaka’s shoulder, sweat trickling down the sides of his face. “I can’t tell anymore.”

“Pretty sure you are. Either that or I’m sitting and my body forgot to let my brain know.”

Noya stumbles away and collapses, palms on the gym floor and fingers splayed out as he reaches for the tips of his shoes. He gives up halfway, head bowing between his legs. A sharp nudge into his rib cage elicits an irritable grumble, but he’s so exhausted that he doesn’t bother moving. 

“If you pass out, I’m gonna snapchat that shit and send it to all the cute girls I know,” Tanaka says as he slumps down next to Noya with a groan. 

“Starin’ at ‘em from a distance doesn’t count as ‘knowin’ them,” Noya shoots back, returning the elbow jab with halfhearted force. “All I need is a little peanut butter, maybe some bread. My limbs already have the jelly covered.”

“I told ya,” Tanaka whispers conspiratorially, “worse than Daichi. Where’s our revered mother to offer some chill in the midst of the tyranny?”

“Not up for the challenge, Tanaka? What a shame. All that yelling and prancing around shirtless was just for show,” Ennoshita casually comments from behind them. Tanaka and Noya turn so quickly that Noya’s half afraid the whiplash would stick. “I guess you’re just waiting around for someone else to take your spot as a regular.”

“What?! No way you’d bench the ace!” Tanaka looks stricken at the mention of someone seriously taking his place, though the way his eyes linger for a second too long on Ennoshita’s calves definitely don’t go unnoticed. He blinks and Noya sees the makings of a declaration emerging. Maybe some shirt whipping for emphasis. 

“Ace? Do we have an ace?” Ennoshita chuckles and goes to check on the rest of the team without giving Tanaka the satisfaction of retorting. 

“You wanna tell me what that was about or is this one of those ‘you saw nothin’ deals?”

“The latter. Definitely the latter,” Tanaka mumbles into the stretch he’s too busy trying to accomplish. 

Noya gives him a cheeky grin. “But you were lookin’.”

“You saw nothin’.” Tanaka grunts as he eases up into sitting position. 

When he nods up toward the gym entrance, Noya follows his line of sight and instantly, the weird fluttering thing starts up in his stomach again. Angry, definitely angry like it’s trying to tell him something his brain hasn’t figured out yet. Maybe with a side of nausea. 

Noya sucks in a breath, fingers curling into his palms, and manages to keep himself from starting the jumping bean routine again. His complete lack of energy might have something to do with it as well, but all the same. Cool. Calm. Collected. No one the wiser. 

He wonders if he should’ve asked Asahi to meet him at the station instead. While he’s been spending a good chunk of time with Asahi even with the amount of practice and schoolwork bogging him down, no one on the team aside from Tanaka actually knows about it and it hadn’t occurred to him that it would look odd with Asahi showing up to practice without a reason. 

“Right. I echo that sentiment. Like right now. You saw nothin’.”

Tanaka seems unable to keep himself in check and eggs it on. “Look at what the crow dragged in. That’s a good look on ‘im, yeah?”

“Asahi-san!” 

Hinata’s voice carries an awed giddiness Noya is no stranger to and soon enough, he’s flanked by Kageyama and a few of the first years as they make their way over to where Asahi hovers by the door. 

“You better go rescue him,” Tanaka says with a boisterous laugh. “Hinata’s gettin’ starry-eyed again.”

Asahi does, in fact, look mildly discomfited from all the sudden attention, even with the amicable smile he gives the first years, who, despite their nervous fidgeting, all stare at him in much the same way Noya did from the years prior. 

 _Still do_ , he thinks, unable to look away even now.

“That Buzz Lightyear costume would be pretty handy right now.” Tanaka prods the side of his head. “Hey space cowboy, the earthlings would like a word with you.”

“Buzz was the astronaut, Woody was the cowboy. Get your comparisons straight.”

“Straight, you say?”

Noya rolls his eyes. “I’m revoking your b.f.f. card.”

“Which one are ya then? ‘Cause you’re spacin’ out and I’m pretty sure that’s not a cucumber in your pants there, Woody,” Tanaka shoots back with a cheeky grin and some very obvious eyebrow waggling. Noya has the sudden urge to punch him in the face, backup energy providing. 

“Shut up, assmuffin. Stop checkin’ out my junk. And anyway, Asahi doesn’t need to be rescued,” Noya says with a touch of confidence. He remembers the train ride then, remembers the way Asahi’s hand had rested at his back like a familiar weight to keep him guarded, remembers the way his jaw had set and the steel of his eyes. “Just give ‘im a minute.”

Sure enough, Noya is right and while Asahi is still somewhat flustered, he’s visibly more relaxed than he was a few moments before. 

“Asahi-san, I didn’t know you were coming by,” Ennoshita says by way of greeting as he gives Asahi a welcoming smile. “Sorry about that; the first years are still a little overenthusiastic and Hinata’s, well, you know Hinata.”

“ _Hooooooh_  Captain! Can we show Asahi-san that new move Kageyama and I have been practicing?”

“Dumbass, he’s not here to see you throw your face at the ball.”

“I resent that! You’re the one that missed the toss!”

“Say that again!”

Asahi palms his neck and chuckles. “Ah, it’s all right, Ennoshita. I actually just came by to see Nishinoya.” Then he turns to Hinata, patting him on the shoulder encouragingly. “But I’ll see about coming again so you can show me that new move, okay? I bet it’s pretty awesome.”

Hinata looks like he’s about ready to cry, fists clenched in front of him as he gives a sparkly-eyed nod. He knocks into Kageyama. “You hear that? We gotta make it  _boom!_  and  _whoosh!_  and amazing so we can show Asahi-san how much we’ve improved!”

Kageyama only nods to excuse himself, grabbing Hinata by the collar and dragging him away, his mutters barely audible from where Noya is currently splayed out trying not to die. 

Noya’s brain says get up, but his body is having a hard time following directions and he must have spaced out because the next thing he knows, Asahi is standing over him, hand outstretched. 

“Need some help?” he asks, concern genuine. 

Tanaka’s inching away, but Noya catches the knowing smirk he tries to hide as he goes off toward the club room to change. 

“I think my legs forgot how to be legs,” Noya says with a groan. Conceding and grabbing Asahi’s hand, he grunts when he’s forcefully yanked up, the exertion more than he anticipates. Blood rushes to his head and makes him woozy. For a second, he wobbles and staggers to the side, disoriented as he shakes his head to get rid of the sensation. Asahi manages to catch him before he eats the gym floor, a firm grip clamping on his shoulder to keep him steady.

“Looks like we have to remind them, then,” Asahi says, hunching down just enough to sling Noya’s arm over his shoulder. 

With how tired Noya is, it doesn’t register how close in proximity they are until Asahi’s hair tickles the side of his face. Immediately, he stills and mentally kicks himself for the way heat rushes to his cheeks at the realization. He tries for an offhanded chuckle and begrudgingly retracts his arm, even though, truth be told, it felt a hell of a lot better with the added crutch. 

“I think I’m good. I can walk.” To emphasize his point, he straightens up and throws Asahi one of his overenthusiastic grins, chest puffing out despite the considerable effort it takes. Asahi looks mildly skeptical, but drops the subject and takes a step away to get out of Noya’s personal space. 

Crap. 

It dawns on him that Asahi may have taken his declaration for independence the wrong way. He wracks his brain for a quick fix and, because his legs still have yet to remember how to function as working limbs, ends up stumbling to the side. Incidentally, the slight works out in his favor because he nudges Asahi’s arm by accident. “Thanks for tryin’ to help, though.”

The acknowledgement works and Asahi visibly relaxes, his expression not quite as mournful as it had been a moment before. “That’s what friends are for, right? To help you when you’re down so you don’t eat the floor?”

“Right. Friends!” His voice rises half an octave without meaning to, something in his chest twinging at the latter word, and he resists the urge to tug at his bangs. Instead, he changes the subject. “And ’eat the floor’? Your vocabulary is vastly improving. I think I’m startin’ to rub off on you, Asahi,” Noya teases and this time, the nudge he doles out is definitely of the non-accidental kind. 

“Don’t rub too hard; that might cause chaffing.” Instantly, Asahi’s eyes go wide before he palms his face, chuckling. “Oh god, that was bad. Sorry.”

“Was that a joke? That was a joke, wasn’t it?” Noya busts out laughing and pokes Asahi’s side, making him involuntarily yelp and squirm away. He gives himself a silent pat on the back for having remembered where Asahi is ticklish most, especially when it results in the endearingly flustered way he bats Noya away, face dusted pink from embarrassment.

“N-Nishinoya!”

* * *

 

“Where’d you wanna go eat anyway?” Noya asks on the way to the station, a little less exhausted now that he’s powered through a shower. There’s a giddiness in his step, a bounce that wouldn’t seem out of the norm to anyone but Tanaka, but apparently Asahi has also caught on. 

“You’re in a better mood than before. More awake, anyway,” Asahi says with a touch of amusement. “I don’t miss practices like those; I almost died in a few of them, now that I think about it.”

“Can we not talk about the dyin’? It’s givin’ me war flashbacks.” Noya groans and toys with his bangs, still damp and hanging limply without his usual wax combed in. “I don’t really think about it when I’m out on the court, y’know? Receive, connect, get the ball in the air. That’s all there is to it. The exhaustion’s worth it every time I get that one perfect receive, that one hail mary save. That’s what it’s about, right?”

Asahi looks at him with something on this side of reverence and Noya remembers the year before when Asahi had given him the same look just before he’d decided to come back to the team, to make them whole again. It makes his stomach flip something fierce, especially when Asahi purposely catches his gaze a split second before he diverts his attention elsewhere, mouth quirking a small smile.

Noya nudges his side. “What’s that for?”

“I don’t know. When you say stuff like that, it always sounds so easy. Like anyone can do it, too, you know? I always envied you for-” He pauses a beat, like he’s trying to find the right words, but settles on, “-being you, I guess?”

The warmth that spreads all over catches Noya off his game. How is he supposed to keep his cool when Asahi’s saying things and giving him those dopey looks? It’s bad enough that he’s already fighting the jelly-effect from the death-defying practice he’d just gone through, but the jelly-effect from Asahi’s open admiration is a whole other thing entirely. For a second, Noya is back in his first year and the rush of Asahi’s very first compliment returns, leaving him at a loss for words.

Air in. Air out.

He resists the urge to smack himself and tugs his bangs instead.

It isn’t like he hasn’t spouted off about Asahi’s amazing skills either and this is just a reciprocation, but still. Somehow, having it said out loud in casual conversation away from the court makes it seem more intimate in a way, more meaningful than something yelled out mid-practice or mid-game to fuel encouragement and team building. 

The station comes into view from Noya’s peripheral and he quickens his pace at the insistence of the very loud, slightly embarrassing gurgles his stomach continues to make. It takes a minute for him to realize that Asahi has fallen behind. His eyebrows are knit together, worry etched along the lines of his face, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he glances over something on his phone.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Noya ventures, backtracking a few steps.

“Ah,” Asahi begins, tapping on his screen before he looks to Noya with an apologetic smile. “I might have to take a rain check on dinner. My mom just texted and there’s an emergency at home. My brother...”

The way he trails off makes Noya’s Spidey senses tingle and he leads with a grin, shaking his head to show Asahi that it isn’t a big deal. “Don’t need an explanation. We can always do it another time, yeah?”

“I just-” He sweeps his hand over his head. “I was looking forward to it,” he manages weakly. 

Noya’s grin widens, the weird flutter things in his stomach going full force with Asahi’s candid admission. He probably looks a little manic, but his brain receptors must be broken because no matter how hard he tries to tone it down, the intensity remains. “So was I, but I don’t wanna get ya in trouble.”

“I know how packed your schedule is and I-” Asahi cuts off like an idea just popped into his head and he holds up a finger as he types a text. When a reply comes through a few seconds later, it must have been what Asahi wanted because he glances up at Noya and asks, “how about dinner at my house? I mean, if you haven’t already changed your mind?”

Noya blinks. His first initial reaction is panic. The next is an odd sense of fear, like he needs to be on his best behavior and something detrimental happening while in Asahi’s personal space could somehow affect how their friendship progressed after he’s made a complete idiot of himself.

Which is likely to happen because if he’s good at anything else besides volleyball, it’s making an idiot of himself when he’s purposely trying not to be.

It’s a sense of pressure to perform that he’s only ever felt right before a game and the comparison makes him more than a little disoriented. Terrified. Maybe more of that nauseous feeling he’s acclimated to since he began trying to deal with whatever new shit his brain has been throwing at him lately. He almost texts Tanaka for a second opinion, but decides against it. Asahi opening up to that degree is pretty serious business and the texting might give off the wrong vibe about how stoked Noya is that he’s finally going to get to see where Asahi gets to be more himself than anything Noya has seen thus far. As terrifying as the prospect is, it also makes him excited enough that the jumping bean routine isn’t far off.

“Or not?” Asahi prompts when Noya doesn’t respond, hesitant and looking like he’s about ready to retract the invitation. “We... could just resched--”

“No! I mean, yes! Yeah, um,” Noya says, managing to tone down the enthusiasm when Asahi jumps back in surprise. “Dinner at your house is good! Great, I mean. Dinner. Your place. Great.” When he pauses to clutch his stomach as it rolls through another gurgle, Asahi takes a step toward him, probably more as a precaution in case he decides to take another dive. “Is it gonna be soon? I dunno if I’m gonna last much longer without refueling.”

The comment earns a laugh from Asahi, relieved and a little more comfortable with Noya’s answer out of the way. Noya can’t help but wonder what else he can do to keep him laughing, if only to hear the sound. Low. Rumbling. Definitely soothing.

“They’re actually just about to eat, but my brother just--” Asahi cuts off abruptly, all apologies again. “Well, you’ll see when we get there.”

* * *

 

Asahi’s place isn’t at all what Noya expected. 

It’s closer to the school than Noya had realized, a short walking distance from the train station where Asahi would normally walk him to. Had he known Asahi was going out of his way, he might not have been as willing to force him to walk twice as long without a good reason. Probably. Though he suspects Asahi had already figured this out and neglected to mention the minute detail on purpose.

“Is that Asahi? Go and greet him! He’s brought a guest!” 

The loud voice carries over from where Noya assumes the kitchen is and a second later, a girl with Asahi’s mousy brown hair pulled up in a messy bun comes barreling into the living room with a huge smile that Noya instantly recognizes.

“I’m assumin’ that’s Chihaya?” he whispers as he follows behind Asahi and toes his shoes off at the foyer. 

He’s barely had the chance to slip on a pair of guest slippers when she throws her arms around Asahi. “Oh thank god! Mom’s been trying to get Arata out of his room for the last hour and nothing’s working,” she says, her expression pleading. “Please go and see what’s wrong so we can all eat?”

Asahi clears his throat and dips his head toward where Noya is standing, clearly embarrassed. “Chihaya, this is Nishinoya. A... friend... um, from high school,” he says, though Noya doesn’t miss the slight stumble in delivery. “Nishinoya, my sister, Chihaya.”

Noya smiles politely and gives her a small salute despite the weird, uncomfortable spasm in his chest. “Hey, nice to meet ya!”

“That’s pretty cool, what you’ve done to your hair,” she comments, releasing Asahi and bowing toward Noya in turn. “Maybe you can convince him to do something about his man-bun, huh?”

With a groan, Asahi palms his face and directs Noya toward the mouth-watering smells in the next room. “Don’t listen to her. She’s pushier when she’s hungry.”

“I heard that, not so little brother!”

“I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, not so big sister,” Asahi counters with a genial laugh. “This is why I don’t bring friends here. You’d scare them all away.”

“Psh, I’m the most non-scary of all. Just be glad Kenji’s not here. Compared to him, I’m pretty tame and more than a little amazing, if I do say so myself. I even get you advanced copies of those shoujo mangas you--”

Asahi stumbles a step and clamps a hand over her mouth before she can say anything else incriminating. He directs a meaningful look at Noya, but Chihaya must have licked his hand because a split second later, she’s sans human muzzle and he’s wiping his palm on his jeans, both their laughter echoing through the hall in unison.

Noya holds in a snicker, remembering the way Asahi had been careful to keep his reading material hidden on the train ride to his first art show. He follows the both of them past the formal dining room and into the kitchen, where a woman who looks nowhere near old enough to be Asahi’s mother is busying herself with setting an extra place at the table.

“Ah, you must be Nishinoya-kun,” she says, cheerful and warmly inviting. She stands and directs him to one of the empty seats. “After all the things Asahi has told us, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“I didn’t know Asahi’s been talkin’ about me,” he says, matching her smile before exaggerating wide eyes at Asahi. “All nice things, I hope.”

“Don’t worry; Asahi’s my good boy. He’s only got nice things to say about everyone,” she says, her fondness unmistakable. Then she gives Asahi a look and starts with, “would you mind...?”

Without waiting for her to finish, Asahi is already halfway to the hall when he motions for Noya to follow. “Come on. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Down the farthest end of the hall, a light fans out from underneath the closed door, a sign that reads “Arata’s Room. Please Knock.” hanging by a thumbtack above a dry erase board. When Noya nods toward it to ask what it’s for, Asahi raises a finger to his lips. He drops to the floor, legs crossed and ear pressed against the door, before he knocks once, three times in quick succession, and once more after that. 

Noya joins him on the floor and leans in, ears perking for any discernible sound. Then after a moment, soft rustling is followed by a knob turning. When the door creaks open, a younger boy about Noya’s brother’s age stands there, apparently surprised that Asahi isn’t alone. He doesn’t acknowledge Noya and instead deadpans at Asahi, the sniff that escapes the only thing marking his disapproval.

“I heard you didn’t want to come out and have dinner,” Asahi ventures carefully, remaining where he is and maintaining eye contact with Arata. “Would you mind telling me why?”

“I couldn’t get the trees to look right. She wouldn’t understand.”

“She probably wouldn’t,” Asahi says with chuckle. He shifts positions so that he’s now on his knees and tall enough to rumple Arata’s hair affectionately. “But food always makes you think clearer, right? Maybe the reason you couldn’t get it how you wanted is because you needed a new perspective.”

Arata shrugs and goes back into his room, but leaves the door open. Asahi takes this as an invitation to come inside, grabbing Noya by the hand and helping him up before following behind in silence. 

The small bedroom is something else and Noya drinks it all in, awed and more than a little impressed by the amount of artwork that papers every available surface on the walls. Different scales of the same building in some, nature-themed in others. All more advanced than anything he’d ever accomplished at that age. 

“Did you do all of this?” he asks without thinking. “This is pretty amazing stuff.”

Asahi flinches and holds up a hand to stop him, but is taken by surprise when Arata shuffles the half finished watercolor paintings on his desk and quietly responds, “I did, thank you.”

Whatever it is that’s just happened is still lost on Noya, though gauging from Asahi’s reaction, it definitely seems like something on the monumental scale. Delicacy has never been his strong suit, but Asahi had trusted him enough to bring him here. Maybe that’s saying something, previous reputation notwithstanding. After chancing a glance in Asahi’s direction, Noya tries his luck again, taking a few steps toward watercolor portraits of various animals. “So you’re an artist, huh? I am, too! Are watercolors your favorite medium?”

With a nod, Arata takes a seat and goes back to the portrait he’s working on. Deciding to press a little further, Noya focuses on Asahi’s quiet breathing near the door as he peers over Arata’s shoulder. Colors blend together seamlessly on the page and again, Noya is awestruck. “You know,” he says, eyeing the trees and pointing toward one of the brushes submerged in the glass jar filled with murky water. “There was a trick my Gram showed me when I first started learning how to paint. It works on a bunch of things, but for trees especially. Want me to show ya?”

Arata’s hand pauses mid-stroke before he finally nods, pushing the jar a fraction in Noya’s direction. Noya takes the brush and squeezes out the excess water, shaping the bristles so they’re split like a ‘V’. Then he dips it in the darker of the leaves’ color, short strokes lining the tree’s outline in v-shaped swishes as he makes sounds to mimic the action. He continues to flick his wrist and watches Arata’s eyes follow the movement with great interest. “If I hand the reins over to you,” he says with a grin, “will you come and have dinner with us first?”

Though his expression shows no change, Arata nods and says, “if you come back and help me finish the tree.”

“Deal!” Noya holds up a hand, which the younger boy stares at with obvious bewilderment. It dawns on Noya that he’s probably never had anyone high-five him before and there’s no way he can live with himself if he didn’t introduce that rite of friendship to someone who could definitely benefit from its after-effects. He takes Arata’s hand, opens it, and lightly smacks their palms together. “You give me one of those every time somethin’ awesome happens.”

Arata tilts his head questioningly. “Why?”

“’Cause,” Noya says as he throws Asahi a wink, “that’s what friends do.”

* * *

 

Dinner goes by much quicker than Noya anticipates. Asahi’s mother reminds him of Asahi, all kind eyes and gentle smile, while Chihaya is exactly the opposite, reminding him more of his own mother. They ask about volleyball, his art, his plans after he graduates. The art show on Saturday he’s invited all of them to comes up and, though both Asahi’s mother and Chihaya already have plans, their enthusiasm for the pieces up for display take up a considerable amount of jabber time. Even Arata seems keen to add to the topic, albeit sparingly. The conversation flows so naturally that it feels like Noya’s been an existing fixture there instead of a new addition. 

It’s a curious thing, the change in atmosphere. 

Asahi is more relaxed, more open, cracking jokes and taking his sister’s playful jibes with an ease Noya hasn’t seen before, even when they’re out by themselves. Noya finds himself staring on more than one occasion and, with mortified tugs on his bangs, manages to look away before his space cadet adventures get him into a truckload of awkward. 

By the time he’s through helping with the cleanup, despite the protests from Asahi’s mother, the bone-weary exhaustion he’s nearly forgotten settles in once more times ten and he excuses himself for the night with promises to definitely come back again. 

Arata insists on prolonging his goodbye and when they get outside, Noya crouches down and offers him a palm. “Next time, I can show ya how to make the brush swishes for the fur. It’ll make the animals pop out more like the trees did. Is that cool with you?”

There’s a slight hesitation before Arata reciprocates and gives Noya’s hand a shaky high-five to seal the deal. “Cool,” he says, quiet but pleased, and runs back into the house without another word. 

Asahi is staring at him strangely when Noya straightens, perplexed as though trying to figure out something, to solve a puzzle only he sees. He seems more than a little impressed, albeit somewhat embarrassed that Noya had caught the lingering gaze, and when he speaks, there’s a cadence in his voice, the same one he used when he saw Noya’s artwork for the first time. “He’s never opened up to anyone else like that.”

“What do ya mean? He’s that way with you.”

“I know, I meant to say anyone aside from me.” Asahi scratches his cheek and shifts his weight. “It, um... i-it really meant a lot that you tried. To get through to him, I mean. Not a lot of people would have.”

“’Cause he reacts differently?” Noya grins and shoves his hands into his pockets. He tilts his head toward the road, an open invitation. “Walk with me?”

With a nod, Asahi shuts the door to the house and, after making sure the keys are in his pocket, falls into step beside Noya. They’re silent for a few minutes - comfortable and lacking any awkwardness that would usually prompt Noya to fill the void with some sort of inane chatter. There are a lot of these silences with Asahi, ones Noya finds he appreciates more and more, even if it’s out of the norm for him to keep quiet ninety percent of the time.

It’s Asahi that breaks it first, clearing his throat before he speaks. “Arata likes you.” He pauses and then adds, almost as an afterthought, “he usually doesn’t like anyone.”

Noya shrugs, visibly pleased. “I like ‘im, too. He’s a pretty cool kid. I bet he’d take to people more if they’d just give ‘im a shot. Work around the kinks, y’know? Make him see that what he’s gotta say is worth listenin’ to instead of makin’ him feel like he’s gotta do things the way the other kids do. ‘Different’ doesn’t always mean ‘bad’.”

Asahi laughs, the sound smooth with just the touch of gravel. “I wish everyone else understood him that way; it would be a whole lot easier for sure. I’ve been trying to get my parents to see that for a while, especially when they get frustrated with him. But you-” They reach the platform and there’s another beat of silence before Asahi reaches out, arms wrapping around him with a murmured, “Thanks for tonight.”

The action is out of left field and Noya stills, shocked with the sudden proximity that all he manages to do is grasp Asahi’s shirtfront, the scent of laundry detergent filling his nostrils. He makes no move to step away and it’s only when the sound of the train pulling into the station jolts him out of his momentary stupor does Asahi finally release him, bowing forward so that their foreheads press together, barely touching. “Get home safe, okay?”

Asahi angles away just enough to look at Noya, his brows knit together and teeth scoring the edge of his bottom lip. Hesitant. Somewhat contemplative. His head dips down and Noya freezes like a deer in headlights. Another  _Bambi_  moment. But then the screech of brakes from behind startles him back into focus and they both laugh, a nervous energy passing between them.

“See ya Saturday.”

“Yeah, see you then.”

Noya vaguely remembers trying not to stumble over the threshold as the train doors hiss shut, Asahi and his dopey grin on the platform left for Noya to commit to memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for updates! I was a little slower with this one because of other projects and RL things I had to deal with, but hopefully the next one won't leave quite as much time in between. :D I totally appreciate all the comments/kudos/likes/reblogs and I just wanted you guys to know that YOU'RE AWESOME and I'm always so aodfjglkj every time someone takes time out of their day to give my little pet project a little love. You all definitely make me more excited to finish another chapter and hopefully you enjoyed this one as well! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! ♡
> 
> -H


	5. The One With the Training Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training camp spells all sorts of trouble as Noya tries to make plans while helping Tanaka figure out a few things of his own.

Noya sits with a scattered few of the second and first years, legs splayed out as he bears down on his knees and bows forward. He glances at the players loitering around the gym looking for Tanaka. But again, he is nowhere to be found. With his luck, he’s been ditched again and Tanaka’s gone off and disappeared with Ennoshita to discuss points from their highly enlightening practice matches against Nekoma High, much to Noya’s mild chagrin. 

Even if he’s neither the captain nor the vice captain, after keeping careful watch of the plays made, he has a few points he’d like to add his two cents about while the ideas are still fresh in his head. Noya wonders about this, feels his Spidey senses kick in considering the two have disappeared more often than usual in the recent weeks to discuss strategies and other things Tanaka offhandedly refers to as “leadership stuff”. 

Right. “Leadership stuff”. Who was Tanaka kidding.

Noya hardly remembers Daichi and Suga having as many private meetings the year before. He snorts and, with a final sweep of the gym, gives up on his search for his missing best friend.

“You’re so lucky you’ll be in Tokyo next year, Nishinoya-senpai!”

Hinata trills in his ear, his excitability both contagious and sprouting a purposefully buried anxiety in Noya he hasn’t quite allowed to manifest. 

At least, not yet. ~~Okay, maybe he’s thought about it once or twice or a couple dozen times. Who was counting anyway?~~  

There is still a considerable amount of time left before he can let himself freak out about life after Karasuno. And just as much time to put off thinking about other things that might be relevant to it. Like housing. And board. And money for food. Okay, he’s probably fucked on all fronts, but that’s why there’s always later to think about things that scream “independent adult” like some neon sign to the rest of his life. 

“Have you figured out which school you’ll be going to and if you’re gonna stay in the dorms?” 

With a groan through his final stretch, Noya lifts his head and manages a sheepish laugh. “Uh, got a good idea about the school, but haven’t gotten that far in the plannin’ stage,” he confesses with a wrinkle of his nose. “Dunno if I can afford the dorms. Maybe if I look up ads for places lookin’ for a roommate, I might be able to find somethin’ cheaper.”

“Kenma mentioned something that might help,” Hinata offers before he’s interrupted by something that sounds like snoring. Or someone choking to death. Noya couldn’t really be sure.

They both turn toward the noise and simultaneously snort. 

The first years to Noya’s right are utterly wrecked by the three-game sets they just played and the grueling pre-game practice Ennoshita managed to get in at ass o’clock in the morning. One or two look as though they’re about to pass out mid-stretch next to the one already slumped over, resting in fucking pieces. If Noya still had feeling in any functional part of his body, he'd probably have a lot more fun with the situation, but as it is, he might just join them in their spontaneous floor worship. “Oi, don’t make me expend more energy yellin’ at ya to finish up. Chikara’s gonna have ya guys runnin’ extra laps if he sees ya passed out before all the equipment’s been put away.”

“Nishinoya-senpai,” Onodera, one of the first year wing spikers, groans out with his cheek pressed against the gym floor. “Please write my eulogy and tell my parents that I fought a good fight.”

“If you guys don’t get up, I’ll make _sure_ Ennoshita-san adds the laps to your practice drills next week,” Kageyama warns, scowling when he gets an elbow in the rib from Hinata. “What was that for?!”

“Stop being a stick-in-the-mud dictator,” Hinata chides, giving them an empathetic grin. “You don’t want the first years finding out about your old nickname, do ya?”

Kageyama blanches at the near-mention of his middle school moniker and sputters, “Y-You promised you’d never bring that up again!”

Hinata snickers. “It’s not like you weren’t famous for it, ya know.”

“He’s got a point there,” Noya chimes in when the first years shrink back at Kageyama’s reaction. “Notoriety’s overrated anyway. At least you got us now. We got your back.”

Kageyama goes red in the face and, along with the others around them, Hinata stares at Noya with awe. Eyes bright; grateful. It’s hard to keep the papa bear pride at bay as Noya fights back a laugh at the collective declarations of, _“So cool, Nishinoya-senpai!”_

He’s going to miss this for sure when it comes time to pass down the torch.

“What’d ya say ‘bout Kenma again?” he asks, hoping to divert the overly reverent looks thrown his way. Now that Hinata has brought up the idea, the not thinking about the thing has now turned into some sort of brain invasion and thinking while running on fumes is never a good idea. Thinking, in general, has never been high on his priority list unless it involves volleyball anyway, so he might as well make use of whatever precious brain cells he’s got left to maybe score a place that won’t break the bank.

Hinata suddenly waves to where the Nekoma players are finishing up their own stretches, looking just as wrung out as the Karasuno underclassmen. In the next moment, their captain, Kozume Kenma, appears, two-toned hair tied back in a loose ponytail. 

“Kenma! You said Kuroo-san was looking for a roommate, right?”

“Dumbass, why the hell are you always so loud?” Kageyama grumbles beside him, prone on the floor and eyes to the ceiling. 

“Don’t pay attention to him,” Hinata says with an embarrassed wave of his hand. “He’s having royal flashbacks.”

“Am not.”

“Are, too!”

“Am not!”

“Okay, okay!” Noya interrupts with a chuckle. Somehow playing referee between them has turned into a regular occurrence, but his interest in finding out about a potential living situation takes precedence to any entertainment he’d get from watching Hinata and Kageyama go at it. “As much as this is amusin’ the hell out of me, what about needin’ a roommate?”

“It won’t be until next year. They have a third roommate there now, but--” Kenma pauses and sniffs, something in his tone mildly discomfited.

“But?” Noya prompts, confused. 

“Kuroo doesn’t like him.”

“Oh. Okay, that’s fair. What if they don’t like me either?”

“You won’t have that problem.”

“How do ya figure?”

Kenma deadpans. “I’m not your type.”

Then the hilarity of the situation dawns on Noya and soon, he’s clutching his stomach, barely able to contain his laughter. “He tried to...?”

“Some people are dumb when they drink. At least you think it’s funny.” Kenma cracks a barely-there grin. “Kuroo, not so much.”

“So it’s an off-campus apartment?” Noya asks, side-eyeing the first years who are still slumped over and likely to incite Ennoshita’s well-placed wrath if he happens to spontaneously appear. He should probably save them. Maybe. “You think they’d let me room with ‘em? It wouldn’t be ‘til next year when I start uni.”

“I dunno. Maybe. I’ll get your contact info from Shouyou and run it by Kuroo.”

“Sweet!” Then something else hits him. “How come you’re not takin’ the spot? Are you not goin’ to school in Tokyo next year?”

“I am, but I... can’t,” Kenma mumbles, suddenly quieter now that the questions are directly related to him. 

Before Noya can ask why, Kenma has already turned on his heel, shuffling back to where his team has gathered. Hinata pipes up instead, explaining, “his grandma got sick, so he’s staying with his parents to help take care of her. He just gets really uncomfortable when he’s gotta answer questions about himself.”

“I figured,” Noya says, a little embarrassed that he had spoken out of turn. He knows exactly how it feels; that reluctance, that hesitation to speak about stuff regarding family that people might not necessarily understand. Something resurfaces to the edge of his subconscious, his hand instinctively brushing patterns over his arm where old bruises used to be. “Let ‘im know I’m sorry, yeah? For pryin’ and stuff. I didn’t mean to put ‘im on the spot like that.”

“I don’t think he minded, but I’ll tell him for you when I talk to him next!” Hinata says with a quick nod. 

“I don’t tell you enough, Shouyou, but you’ve really grown up, you know that?”

He sees the hint of a lip wobble and the sheen of wide eyes from his peripheral as Kageyama attempts to keep Hinata together in the wake of Noya’s spontaneous comment. Noya laughs, a swell of pride rising in his chest, but the moment is short lived when something else catches his attention. 

On the other side of the gym, the two missing Crows emerge from the hall leading out from the equipment room. Tanaka is saying something Noya can’t make out, but from Ennoshita’s expression, it sends off all kinds of warning bells. Foghorn and strobe light levels of “oh shit” that Noya is doubtless going to hear about; sooner rather than later from the looks of things. There’s a certain tension between them, hanging in the air like a ticking bomb waiting to go off. Tanaka’s fists clench when Ennoshita attempts to catch his arm. He turns away, brushing off the contact, and even from his vantage point, Noya can see the pulsing vein at his temple. Something that only happens when Tanaka’s so worked up he can’t think straight.

Without turning back, Tanaka says something that makes Ennoshita’s face crumple before he stalks out of the gym without saying anything to the remaining bodies still loitering around. Noya catches Ennoshita’s gaze and tilts his head questioningly, but Ennoshita only shrugs, eyes downcast as he makes his way over to where Kenma and the rest of his teammates are to say his goodbyes. 

* * *

 

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: camps officially over and im still alive!  
[text]: snuck away earlier to snap a pic for u since u couldnt be here :D  
[text]: [image]:jjpsdiddhp.jpg

Noya makes himself comfortable on the makeshift fencing along the hill overlooking the valley below. It’s a little rickety and probably not the most stable thing to be sitting on, but he figures he’s light enough that the wooden support wouldn’t fall apart under his weight. Probably. Maybe with a lot of praying involved. 

Tanaka, it seems, is intent on avoiding him all throughout dinner. Which is probably a good thing considering the steam rushing out of his ears every time he had come within a meter of wherever Ennoshita was. His cool down periods aren’t usually very long, but judging from whatever the hell happened in the gymnasium, Noya has a feeling this isn’t something out of Tanaka’s norm. In any case, at least the unexpected time alone gives him the opportunity to relax, to unwind, and to catch up with the one person he’s had to make a conscious effort not to think about just in case the distraction put him off his game for the duration of his stay.

The horizon looks less vibrant now that evening has settled in, the varying shades of pinks, oranges, and yellows from the earlier sunset now drowned in darker sweeps of midnight blue. Stars speckle the sky in blinking flecks of light, dotting constellations he can’t quite remember but know are there (a lecture he more than likely slept through in class and now wishes he hadn’t so he can tell Asahi about them). He snaps a picture with the full moon shining dead center, intent on sending Asahi another view Noya is sure he’s missed. He’s about to attach the image when he feels his phone buzz, an incoming message interrupting him mid-type. 

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: it’s funny you sent that because I took this earlier. :)  
[text]: [image]:ddcphsgih.jpg  
[text]: I was going to send it then but I thought you might think I was being a sap or something. u_u;;

The picture is nearly identical to the one Noya has sent, the sun’s top curve just peeking out from behind the mountain ridge visible from Asahi’s bedroom window. Noya tugs his bangs and finds himself grinning in total unabashed idiocy before he shoots back a text. 

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: who said bein a sap was a bad thing? lol  
[text]: i remembered u lookin at that piece i did with the sunset from last yrs trainin camp n thought u might want a view of it before u n i come back again  
[text]: urs looks pretty sweet too tho  
[text]: kinda makes me wish u were here ykno?

There’s a pause in response, a few minutes of silence as Noya looks at the text log and waits. He half wishes he hadn’t sent the last message because a few more minutes pass and the lull has him questioning whether the meaning of it is taken out of context. Now he’s wondering if he should send a follow up text to retract it in order to avoid an awkwardness he’s not sure he’s ready for. His phone buzzes again and he nearly drops the device, which would have gone horribly, horribly wrong because he definitely can’t afford another one. The tightness in his chest takes precedence to his mini-freak out and he realizes he’s been holding his breath far longer than is acceptable if he doesn’t want to involuntarily pass out and drop off the side of the cliff. Quickly, he pulls up the message.

Air in. 

Air out.

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: your view kind of makes me wish I was there, too. :)

Something flutters in his gut; nice, warm, not at all entirely unpleasant. With another tug at his bangs when he feels the warmth spread all over, the idiot grinning makes a spectacular comeback as he replies.

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: see? ur not the only sap   
[text]: heres what it looks like now  
[text]: [image]:jjwilsllsih.jpg  
[text]: cant remember what all the constellations r but its nice up here. peaceful  
[text]: u’d like it

Asahi’s response is quicker this time, complete with a picture of his own. 

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: this is the view from my bedroom window.  
[text]: [image]:ddiojcllel.jpg  
[text]: I heard somewhere that if you put your thumb over the moon and close one eye, no matter where you are, it’s always the same size.  
[text]: so if you think about it  
[text]: it’s like I am.  
[text]: there with you, I mean.  
[text]: or you’re here. with me. or something.  
[text]: oh god, now I really am being a sap. lol

Noya laughs and shakes his head. He can perfectly imagine Asahi, bright red in the face, that sheepish chuckle he’s grown to appreciate filling Asahi’s bedroom despite the embarrassment palpable even through text messages.

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: ur face is in ur hand again isnt it? lol  
[text]: its fine, ur fine :D  
[text]: i like that  
[text]: the thing w the moon  
[text]: makes me feel better esp bc im so exhausted that i feel like this camp session was probably devised by chikara to put me in an early grave

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: oh no! don’t die.  
[text]: I kind of like you

When he reads the message, Noya stills. The air rushes out of his lungs and everything hangs in the air like some kind of weird, comical movie moment where a climactic event happens and it throws the main character off his game. Except it’s not a movie. Not some warply written script with cues he can take for how to react when something careens into his face like a semi-truck on steroids. He remembers the button hidden in his wallet with the rest his stuff back at the lodge, remembers the train ride that started his roller-coaster ride through one of the biggest mindfucks he’s ever had. Remembers Asahi’s face, the hesitation there, the fear. But most of all, the hope behind the dopey brown eyes he’s found he's thought about more and more since then. All in a fraction of a second. 

Then another string of texts pops the bubble.

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: alive  
[text]: I meant alive and I hit the send button by accident  
[text]: oh god, did I make it awkward? don’t freak out...  
[text]: I’m an idiot. I’m sorry my big giant thumbs are useless and my phone hates me and now I’m rambling.

Reading through the texts, it takes him a little bit to realize his throat has gotten a little too tight, a little too sticky for his liking. He makes a frustrated noise and tugs on his bangs, not used to the sensation he’s currently experiencing. 

A ripple of disappointment washes over Noya. Slow and creeping, like a fog rolling in from the shadows; something invisible that makes it hard to move, to get a bearing on his senses, but there just the same. Its onset confuses him and he has a hard time deciding whether if, for that one moment, he seriously wanted to believe it was an actual confession. That Asahi is cementing the meaning of the button, that there is some clarity on the horizon waiting to rise if only he has the patience to wait for the first sign of light to appear. 

Things have been pretty casual with Asahi. Chill, easy, something he doesn’t have to think about except in rare moments when the night is heavier and sleep plays hard-to-get. But now he thinks. Much more than he’s willing to admit, more than he’s wanting to do under normal circumstances, if he’s admitting things to the void. 

And Asahi’s text messages make the “not thinking” much harder than it’s supposed to be. 

“You look like someone just died,” a voice says from behind him, a familiar arm slinging around his shoulder. 

For the second time that night, Noya nearly drops his phone. He’s really going to have to start brushing up on his reflexes before he’s out a phone and his reputation as a libero is placed in serious jeopardy.

“Or like someone just beat your high score on Tekken. Pretty much the same thing in my book.” Tanaka flicks Noya’s ear and chuckles. 

Noya snorts. “Yeah, in your dreams.” He gestures to the spot next to him and laughs at Tanaka’s mock hurt from the retort, complete with chest clutching and a carefully-timed lip wobble. “How’d you know I’d be out here?”

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: nothins awkward no worries lol  
[text]: calm, okay? we’re good  
[text]: ryuu just got here though so igtg  
[text]: talk to u when i get back?

“This was where we hung out last year on our last day of camp. You stayed behind with Asahi after everyone went inside, remember?” Tanaka taps his head and winks. “Got the memory of an ox. Saw you steal out here earlier, too, snappin’ a picture. Goin’ down memory lane with someone, eh?” He nudges Noya’s side for emphasis.

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: okay if you’re sure. :/

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: 110%  
[text]: dont worry yeah? ttyl

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: have a safe trip back. talk to you later. :)

“Pretty sure it’s an elephant with the memory thing and not an ox, but I get the general gist,” Noya says, jamming Tanaka’s ribs with his elbow like he means to take out a few of them. “I’m done now anyway. And you’re one to talk. I’m surprised you saw me head out when you were busy checkin’ out Chikara’s ass. I’m flattered you still manage to think of me while you’re oglin’ the goods. Your bromeo reputation remains untarnished.”

“Checkin’ out Chikara’s-- what?! No! I wasn’t, I mean I--” Tanaka splutters mid-reply like he’s forgotten how to speak Japanese, eyes wide before they flicker to a knot in the wooden slat that has suddenly become exponentially more interesting. 

Noya snickers, feeling a little smug that he’s managed to turn the tables on Tanaka this time. The easy banter takes the edge off his earlier disappointment and he’s glad, at least, that though they haven’t really talked much in days, it’s an easy shift back into their normal antics. Tanaka seems to be in better spirits than when Noya had seen him last and it takes the edge off his worrying, even if the effect is on the microscopic scale.

Their last night at the lodge has been a crazy affair, after all, between refereeing Hinata and Kageyama's battle of who did what and who was better at it, trying to figure out battle plans with first years who showed promise, consoling Yamaguchi about his new setter skill set, and general fuckery that nearly had Noya going postal from severe nutrient deprivation. Not to mention the lingering whatever it is that seems to be putting the captain and vice captain at disturbing odds with each other. 

But sitting here with Tanaka now instantly puts him at ease and, like all the other times his best friend has come through for him without really trying, he’s grateful. For more reasons than he’d care to mention out loud. At least for now. 

But despite the natural flow of their banter, something is still completely off and he feels it. Knows it in some deeper part of him that’s only tapped into with the same brainwave as the guy currently occupying the space next to him and trying to stare a volcanic hole into the not-so-interesting knot.

Tanaka is quieter than usual. Subdued and distracted, all serious business in a way that might not look entirely out of place to someone not Noya considering Tanaka’s gained a considerable responsible streak since he made vice captain. 

“That knot is gonna pack its bags and find another place to live if you keep starin’ it down like Kageyama versus a vending machine.”

Tanaka's missed cue to further the playful jab at their teammate only confirms Noya’s gut feeling. But he doesn’t pry, doesn’t push. It speaks volumes of their friendship that he’s able to contain himself at all and reel in his knee-jerk tendency to jump into the line of conversation instead of waiting to be told exactly what’s eating Tanaka’s metaphorical shorts. 

After a moment of silence, which Noya dutifully refrains from breaking until Tanaka has regained some semblance of his dignity, Tanaka finally sucks in a breath and exhales slowly. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Found your chill? You seemed better’n you were after the practice games anyway," Noya says with a nudge of his arm. “Are we filin’ this under the ‘you saw nothin’ clause or are ya actually gonna tell me what the hell that was about?”

“It was--” Tanaka pauses and gruffly rubs the top of his head like the electricity it’s causing would somehow aid in the explanation process. “Shit, man. I dunno.” He makes a small noise and casts a glance in Noya’s direction. “Is this what it was like for you? When you were goin’ through that shit with Asahi?”

“Correction, ‘are goin’ through’. Present tense. There’s a lot of shit. You have to be more specific. What rock have you been hidin’ under that you figured I got all this stuff worked out? I’m just as fucked in the head as you an’ probably just as close to makin’ some sort of sense that doesn’t wanna fry whatever brain cells I have left after school’s done with me.”

“Oh.”

“Your eloquence leaves me weak at the knees, lemon drop.”

“Shut up, jelly bean,” Tanaka says with a chuckle and shoves Noya hard enough that he teeters off his perch for a split second. “I just thought that since you’ve been hangin’ out pretty regularly, you guys have shit all hashed out.”

“Well, someone forgot to tell me ‘cause I sure as hell have no idea what’s goin’ on with us. With anything, really.”

“Yeah? No mention of the magic button? No declarations of undying devotion?”

“Zip, zilch, nada.” Noya makes a noise that sounds frighteningly close to squirrely and resists the urge to fling himself off the rickety old fence. People usually have epiphanies in near-death experiences, right? Some moment of clarity, a light bulb flash that shows him exactly what he’s supposed to do, where he’s supposed to go. Move forward, pass “Go”, collect 200. 

He’s tempted, but considering how tired they both are, it’s probably not one of his brightest ideas. Besides, it’s Tanaka’s turn to spill. What kind of a friend would he be if he doesn’t at least try to make sense of whatever confusing fuckery is sloshing through Tanaka’s head?

“Do you want there to be? Mentions and declarations and all that?”

“I-- I dunno...” Noya sighs. “You wanna be the pot or the kettle?”

“Does it matter? Black and bleak either way, right?” Tanaka says with a shrug. The offhanded gesture causes his collar to shift, revealing a large, conspicuous bruise just above the base of his neck. He catches the look Noya gives him and quickly moves to conceal it.

“It was so much easier when we were makin’ idiots of ourselves while Kiyoko ignored us.” Noya exhales and tilts his head up to the sky instead, the bright glow of the moon making him squint. A wry chuckle escapes. “No complications, no confusin’ shit, no overthinkin’. I miss our childhood, Ryuu,” he says, somewhat mournful. 

Then, without preemption, Tanaka blurts, “we... did stuff. _A lot_ of stuff. Me and Chikara. We--” His expression crumples in a way Noya has never seen. Bewildered. Mortified. Definitely like he might need some quality time with the porcelain throne. The sight is more than a little jarring.

“Oh shit.” There’s nothing that could have prepared him for _that_ swing into left field. Part of him is a little envious that at least Tanaka’s done something about it. But the other part, the part that is still trying to wrap his mind around everything, is glad that he doesn’t have that complication to add to the mix. If there was a God of Chill, now would be a great time for some loaner powers. Maybe a wise anecdote or spiritual saying of some sort. But all that manages to come out of Noya’s mouth again is, “ _oh shit_.”

“Yeah, I got that the first time around.” Whatever restraint Tanaka has been holding onto is gone now, his hands unable to keep still as they alternate between rubbing off whatever hair he’s got left on his head and wringing his hands so tightly together that Noya can see them pale with each twist of his fingers. 

“Did you go--”

“--all the way? What are we, ten? Yeah, we f-- I mean, we had, um... _you know_. Yeah.” Tanaka swallows, the action looking much more difficult than it’s supposed to be. Noya empathizes. 

With a cringe, he holds up his hands. “Okay, okay, I get the idea! Don’t need details.” He chances a question, which is really inconsequential, all things considered, but he has to know how deep Tanaka is in. “How long?”

“A month maybe? Just sorta... happened.” Tanaka’s fingers look like they’re about to pop right out of their respective sockets now, which would probably be high up on the “no” list considering he might need them to play. Among other things. “Shit. Shit shit shit shit _shit_!”

Noya clears his throat, reaches over, and places a hand there to prevent any lasting damage.

“Well, there goes your theory about graduatin’ a virgin,” he says, unsure if any attempt at humor would be enough to pull Tanaka out of his Pandoramic shitstorm. “Guess you wanted to make sure my endorsement of Chikara’s calves was the real deal, huh?”

Tanaka cracks a smile and, by some miracle of whatever deity answered Noya’s prayers about how to get through this service ace somewhat whole, the smile is soon followed by a quiet chuckle. “Asshole.”

“Precious flower, you wound me.” Noya mocks a dagger through his heart. “And I thought I had problems. Leave it to ya to come up with worse shit so I wouldn’t have to wallow in mine.” They both laugh until the weight of Tanaka’s admission returns, not as heavy as before, but still leaving Noya with a shift he doesn’t quite know how to handle. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I dunno. I mean, yeah, at some point, probably.” Tanaka opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, but a beat passes and Noya takes to prompting him by way of an elbow in the general area of his kidney. Or maybe a lung; he can’t remember. With a grimace, Tanaka rubs the offended area and sighs. “Do ya... I mean, am I gay?”

Noya answers without hesitation. “Don’t think ya are. Not entirely anyway. Unless you were pullin’ off a spectacular performance of a droolin’ invalid whenever a pretty girl gets within a meter of you.” He claps a hand at Tanaka’s shoulder before giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I stopped tryin’ to drive myself nuts figurin’ out a label for all this shit goin’ on in my head. I say don’t worry ‘bout that; focus on you. How _you_ feel, y’know? Not what kind of label it has. I mean, once the shock and nausea pass. Don’t focus on that part. Shit’s gross.”

Tanaka laughs, the sound less forced. “Pretty sure I’m still in shock and it’s been goin’ on a while.”

“Don’t blame ya. I probably would be, too.”

“So I guess I’m like you now, huh?”

Noya sighs. “When ya figure out what that is, I’d like a detailed report with cited verifiable sources.”

They sit in silence for a while and when it’s late enough that Takeda comes out to call them in, Tanaka stuffs his hands into his pockets and says low enough so only Noya can hear, “thanks for--” He pauses, brows creasing like he’s trying to find the right words. “--bein’ you, I guess. Just proved how cool I always thought you were.”

“Gettin’ all bromeo on me now,” Noya says with a laugh. “And look at me without an imaginary trellis for you to climb. My best friend’s pretty fuckin’ cool, too, y’know. I only learn from the best.”

Tanaka’s lip wobbles. “God damn it, now I’m weirdly emotional. You know what that _does_ to me!”

As they follow Takeda inside, Noya thinks that maybe it’s not that bad being him, even with all the crap in his head he hasn’t quite figured out yet.

* * *

 

“I’m guessing training camp did you a lot of good, huh?”

Noya is flat on his stomach, splayed out on the tatami mat in his bedroom trying to keep his brain from self-imploding. Increased practices and the fear of failing exams has cut into whatever little time he’s been left with to socialize and, as a result, a lot of his bonding sessions with both Tanaka and Asahi have been reduced to semi-study sessions like the one Asahi is helping him with now. 

Asahi’s voice interrupts the effort he’s been trying to put into the math problem that makes as much sense now as it did a full hour before. Part of him thinks he should give it up. Who uses math anyway? He sighs in exasperation and smacks his forehead against the open book of review questions. It’s his last year and even his own screwed up logic isn’t going to get him passing the entrance exams on its own. 

“Same as the last two years,” Noya says distractedly. He chews the end of his pencil, the eraser nearly nonexistent after a few rounds of Noya’s study sessions, when suddenly, he feels a prickle on his skin. A zap shocks him and he looks down to find Asahi’s fingertips hovering just above one of the larger bruises he’d scored from the week before. 

“Ah,” Asahi says, retracting his hand and clamping it around his neck in embarrassment instead. There’s a tinge of color on his cheeks. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to, uh - I was just...” He trails off and gestures to Noya’s arm, mouth upturned in that nervous way that makes Noya’s stomach flip as much as he wants to yell at Asahi for doubting whatever thought process is going on in his head. 

Noya swallows. 

“Just what?” he prompts, blinking down at the patches of purple and green dotting his forearms. “Oh these? They’re nothin’. Practically healin’ already!” He presses against one of them and barely flinches, holding it out toward Asahi’s curious gaze. “See?”

Visibly relaxing at the reassurance, Asahi shifts a fraction closer and reaches out to trace the one he’d focused on a few moments before. His fingertip circles around it, gentle and endearingly careful, brushing along the yellowish tinge that fans out from the deep purple center.

Noya’s vocal chords suddenly feel like they’re covered in something sticky. Like molasses or honey. Or something just as easily incapacitating. Krazy-glue, maybe. He tries to swallow again and nearly chokes to death on his own saliva.

Smooth, Noya. Real smooth. 

It isn’t like Asahi’s never initiated any sort of contact before; on the contrary, the last few months has made Asahi a little bolder, a little more secure in reciprocating gestures that Noya has always given freely. Without much thought. Without any realization about how his actions can be taken. But somehow, the way Asahi is looking at the bruises now is more awe-struck, more attentive. Intimate.

His stomach clenches, subdues the jumping bean routine he can feel coming on. 

He pulls his arm away, tells himself it’s because it’s uncomfortable to have it hovering in the position it’s in and not because having Asahi’s central focus on him that way is leading him straight into Babbling Idiotville. 

Air in.

Air out. 

Not weird. 

“You always had new ones even before the old ones heal,” Asahi muses, curling his fingers into his palm. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get into your personal space like that.”

“I’m used it to by now. Hard not to. I’ve been gettin’ ‘em since I was a kid when my d--” Noya catches himself just in time. In a way, getting comfortably more familiar with Asahi is enriching as much as it is detrimental. There are things Asahi would probably be better off not knowing and details about his absent father is probably on that short list of hands-off topics. To redirect the slight, Noya snorts, incredulous. “And we have personal space? Guess someone forgot to tell me.”

“Well, not much of it. But I was trying to... not be inappropriate? I suppose.” Shaking his head, Asahi chuckles, strands falling out just enough to fall over his eyes. 

“Inappropriate?” Noya ventures absently. The sight makes something in his stomach go funny. Not so much “haha”, but more “this is new and bad. Very, very bad.”

“Never mind.” Asahi peers down at Noya’s notebook. “Did you get that math problem worked out yet?”

At the mention of homework, Noya’s math loathing returns full force as he purses his lips in irritation. “By ‘worked out’, do you mean ‘starin’ at it for the last hour’? ‘Cause that’s all I got.”

“Maybe I can help?” Asahi asks. Tentative. Relatively unsure. When Noya glances up at him, he’s fidgeting with his hands and looks as though he’s about to retract the offer. 

Noya slides the coursework guide a fraction over and lays his cheek on his notebook toward Asahi, mustering a look he hopes resembles a very desperate, very imploring puppy. “Please, Asahi- _sensei_?”

Asahi chokes and turns away, but not before Noya catches the color on his cheeks and smile lighting up his face like a thousand suns.

***

“What are those?” Asahi asks a short while later, pointing to the scribbled out doodles bordering Noya’s course notes during their mandatory ten minute break. 

Asahi’s teaching methods are better than Noya had anticipated. Patient, encouraging, breaking things down so it’s easier for Noya to piece things together without letting his mind wander like it usually does even with strands of hair falling distractingly across Asahi’s face. (Was he always that attractive? God _damn_ it.) Much to his relief, the prospect of passing his next few tests seem a more likely possibility than it did an hour ago.

“Oh,” Noya says, clearing his throat and rapidly blinking at the blotched mess covering up most of his idle trying-not-to-think-about-a-thing-but-miserably-failing-Asahi sketches. He stealthily attempts to hide the majority of the page with his sleeve and shrugs. It’s times like these that he needs Tanaka’s omniscient wisdom to keep from doing the stupid thing he doesn’t want to do but is probably doing anyway. Maybe there’s a deity he can spontaneously pray to that would make Asahi forget he’s seen anything. “I doodle when I’m bored. No big.”

He squints at the tiny sketches, just on this side of paranoid that he’d forgotten to cross out one or left enough of them exposed through the garish slashes of ink that they were open to Asahi’s curious interpretation. 

“Ah, okay. Just wondered ‘cause you have them crossed out and you usually don’t do that.”

God.

Damn.

It.

When did everyone suddenly start noticing things he does like it’s the new “it” super power? He really needs to catch himself before he unknowingly dives into a vat of awkward he can’t get out of.

To say the observation catches him off guard is an understatement. Asahi’s been paying attention. More attention than Noya’s given him credit for. Somehow the thought is a little terrifying considering the situation. Okay, maybe more than a little terrifying. He opts to wave off the errant comment instead. 

“Got caught once in that class, so I figured better blocks of scribbled out doodles defacing the page than havin’ to explain what they are to the entire class if I get caught again.”

“Ah, okay. If you say so.” 

Asahi doesn’t press, but something in his tone makes Noya think Asahi’s politeness and unwillingness to force Noya to talk about things has more to do with it than any actual belief in his lamely constructed excuse. Guilt bubbles up with the white lie, but he shoves it aside and instead transitions into something less uncomfortable. Anything to get that look he can’t quite read off of Asahi’s face.

He nudges Asahi’s knee with his shoulder before resting his chin on top of it. “Got another art show in a few weeks right after Interhigh prelims. You up for it?”

Asahi’s expression perks up at the invitation. “I’m always up for it,” he says, inadvertently making the somersaulting thing in Noya’s stomach worsen. “Are you showing new pieces I haven’t seen yet?”

_There are a lot of pieces you haven’t seen and I’d really like to keep it that way so I don’t look like a giant loser_ , Noya thinks, but manages a grin to hide the errant thought. “Yep! Also told Kensho-san about Arata’s work and guess he thinks enough of me to trust my opinion.”

Asahi glances at him, puzzled. “Meaning what?”

“He asked if he could show one of his pieces. Not to sell or anything. Unless Arata’s cool with it. He’s pretty big on helpin’ younger artists get some exposure and I thought it’d be a good way to bring your brother out of his shell.”

“I don’t know...” Asahi trails off, a crease forming between his brows. Hesitant. Unsure. Which in turn makes Noya hesitant and unsure about his unsolicited proactiveness. “Do you really think it’ll help?”

“I do,” Noya says with as much of a nod as his current position allows. “But it’s your call. You know him better’n I do, ya know?”

“I guess there’s no harm in trying. I do want to broaden his comfort zone a little bit,” Asahi muses, worrying the inside of his cheek in that way that makes Noya’s attention zero in on the purse of his lips. “I don’t know about asking him, though. I think he’d be too scared to try if he knew a bunch of people would see it and criticize.”

“How ‘bout this? You give me one you know he’s proud of and I’ll see if it lines up with what Kensho-san’s showin’ that weekend. If I hear anything about it that sounds like it’ll set Arata off, I’ll have him pull it and that’ll be that. But if it gets some good exposure, we can surprise him with it. Give him something to be proud of.”

Asahi mulls over the proposition and Noya knows he’s going through the various scenarios in his head of how everything could go wrong. After a few minutes of silence, he says, “he _has_ been showing a lot of interest whenever I bring up your shows. He thinks you’re pretty cool for putting your artwork on display.”

The compliments warms Noya in a way that only usually happens when Asahi praises him. He figures it must be the Azumane gene and laughs, glad for the reassurance that he’s somehow managed to wrangle Arata’s rare approval. “See? Maybe he just needs a little push in the right direction.”

Asahi chuckles and gives Noya’s hair a fond rumple. “And who better to push him to realize his potential than the one who made me realize mine?”

At the unexpected recognition, Noya flushes. Eyes wide and ears burning to the tips; the whole nine yards. “How do you expect me to concentrate on math when you say things like that?” he groans with his face planted on Asahi’s thigh, muffled and completely exaggerated.

“Like what?”

“Never mind. Ignore my dumb ass,” Noya says, laughing at his own ridiculousness and forcing his brain to think about the looming math problems that refuse to solve themselves, but giving up on that as well. He schools his expression into the most innocent he can muster and directs it at Asahi. “I think I’m all mathed out. Watch a movie with me instead?”

Asahi ruefully sighs, but not without affection, knowing full well it’s useless to argue when Noya’s brain has already shut down. “Okay, but I get to pick this time. I couldn’t sleep for days after you convinced me to watch _Ju-On_. Never again.”

“You were scared,” Noya teases, poking Asahi’s side. “That’s cute.”

Asahi pales, lips pressed together as he tries to suppress the automatic reaction, but Noya prods the same spot again and this time, Asahi yelps before scooting a considerable distance away. 

“N-Nishinoya...” he says, cautiously putting his hands up like a shield. His eyes widen when he seems to gauge Noya’s next premeditated move. “No, no, no! S-Sorry, but not cute! _Not cute_!”

Noya scrambles upright and launches himself at Asahi, fingers knowing exactly where to go to elicit the maximum response. “Admit it! You know you’re gonna agree with me eventually; you’d just be savin’ yourself some pro-grade tickles,” he says, fingers pressing along Asahi’s hip to find the spot that makes him--

“NISHINOYA!”

\--and there it is.

With a jubilant cry, Noya continues kneading his fingers just below where Asahi’s hipbone juts out ever so slightly. Asahi is breathless in no time, choked protests falling on deaf ears while Noya keeps going until he gets the answer he’s looking for.

“Do ya give up?!” Noya demands when he’s managed to straddle Asahi’s thighs to keep him in place, intermittently finding other places worthy enough to store in his arsenal for later recollection. 

“Okay, okay,” Asahi wheezes between pained laughter. Tears brim at the corners of his eyes and Noya has the strange urge to brush them away. “I give, I give!”

Smug and more than a little satisfied that he’s won so easily, Noya retracts his grip and crosses his arms. “Now ya gotta say it. ‘Nishinoya, I’m cute when I’m scared.’ Come on. Say it.”

It seems Noya has spoken too soon because in the next second, Asahi grabs his arms with ease and switches their positions in a carefully-timed roll. He leans in, a flicker of triumph behind the warm brown eyes momentarily rendering Noya speechless. “I changed my mind,” Asahi says with a chuckle, more confident now that he’s regained the upper hand. “I don’t give.” 

Noya struggles under him while trying to spot a loophole he can use to his advantage, but by the time he concedes that there isn’t one, they’re both spent and out of breath, grinning from ear to ear. Exhilarated. Comfortable. Familiarity making the dwindling space between them something of a non-issue. Asahi’s face hovers above him and pins Noya’s arms securely in place, his gaze equal in intensity to the expression Noya now wears. Instinctively, Noya’s head lifts up without realizing what it looks like he’s trying to do. Asahi seems to follow the pull of the moment and lowers to meet him, but then--

“...um,” Noya manages lamely, turning his face to the side at the last second, face flushed and _burning_. Like some sort of volcanic disaster waiting to erupt.

_Oh god... don’t think about eruptions. Why does it sound more wrong in my head? ~~I’m so fucked.~~_

There’s thrumming in his ears, a crescendo of sound that matches the rhythm of the thing currently trying to Drum Line its way out of his chest. 

_What did I just do?! Shit shit shit shit shit..._

Air in. 

Air out.

Not awkward. Not awkward. Not awkward.

_Fuck, okay maybe a little awkward._

The slight seems to dawn on Asahi then, understanding and horrible embarrassment flickering in every minute change of his expression. “I... ah, I didn’t mean to-- I was just--” With a groan, he pulls back and settles against the heels of his feet with a mumbled, “’m sorry” into the cradle of his palms.

“Can we just--” Noya wracks his brain for some sort of plausible solution that hopefully doesn’t involved having to address what is that’s just happened. He shoves his laptop toward Asahi. “You pick the movie then! We can, um, skip the scary ones today. Cool?”

“Ah, yeah,” Asahi quickly agrees and proceeds to busy himself with scrolling through the movie files on Noya’s laptop while Noya sets up the futon against the wall. “Is, uh, _Big Hero 6_ good for you?”

_No kissing in_ Big Hero 6 _. Good, yeah. Okay. I can do this._

“Yep!” Noya says, more exuberant than he means it to be, but glad that the slight squeak in his voice hasn’t betrayed him. 

As Asahi starts the film, settling against the wall next to him at a distance just a fraction closer than normal, Noya can’t help but wonder what could have happened had he not turned away.

* * *

 

A few weeks later, whatever awkward discomfort stemming from their impromptu movie night is nearly nonexistent. Asahi seems just as keen to shove the incident aside as Noya has been and though a part of him, a small voice in his head he doesn’t care to listen to very often, insists he needs to talk about it, too much is going on with everything else that it’s easier to leave it be and move on.

“Hey, you guys made it!” 

Noya jogs over to where the spectator benches are located above the gymnasium and gives a small bow when Asahi, flanked on each side by Suga and Daichi, leans against the railing and waves. 

“I thought they might want to see you guys kick some ass,” Asahi says, giving an appreciative nod toward his former team as they get ready for their second game. “I hope you don’t mind that I asked them to come.”

“Not at all! I think it’ll pump the rest of ‘em up. Get ‘em energized and hungry to win, y’know?”

Daichi grins and good-naturedly slaps Asahi on the back. “I think Asahi’s more nervous than the rest of you and he’s not even playing. Besides, I’ve been itching to see how well you’ve all improved and judging by the end of that first game, I’d say the team’s in good hands.”

“Chikara’s worse than you ever were, Daichi-san,” Noya says, all solemn nods. 

“I’m not even surprised,” Suga pipes up with a smile, “Daichi just likes to make everyone think he’s a hardass so they wouldn’t see the soft gooey center inside.”

“Speak for yourself.” Daichi thumps his abdomen with exaggerated gusto. “Nothing soft about me!”

Asahi groans into his hand. “You guys are embarrassing.”

With a glance over his shoulder, Noya nods at a waving Ukai, who seems to want to do his pre-battle speech before everything starts. “Gotta go. Don’t want Coach to blow a fuse before the match starts.” He directs a grin at Asahi. “See ya after?”

Nodding, Asahi returns the grin with that glint in his eyes Noya hasn’t seen in a while. “Go. Destroy them. We’ll be here cheering you guys on.”

***

The match begins, every nerve in Noya’s body igniting like a fuse and emitting a certain confidence. An energy that’s infectious and carries on to the entire team. They’re all in the best forms he’s seen all year and the excitement of having his former upperclassmen watch along with Asahi’s magnetic presence does a solid for the team’s morale as a whole.

He feels like he’s on fire, every receive and most every save automatic and precise. His senses are sharp, on point, the ball acting like an extension instead of a hurtling opponent. Easy. Effortless. Like it’s always been.

On one of his swap-outs, he hears a voice in the stands, familiar but not, and turns toward the sound of his name to find the girl from the ramen place he’d gone to with Asahi. She stands a few meters from where Asahi, Daichi, and Suga are situated, waving enthusiastically. The girl next to her searches the court before she smiles like she’s found who she’s looking for, gaze fixated on who Noya could only guess is Kageyama. 

_She must be the one who had the thing for him. Oh man, I wish Ryuu could see this._

Noya jogs over, wiping beads of sweat off his forehead with his arm, before he looks up. “Came to see the matches?” he asks, friendly grin in place.

“Actually, we just came to cheer your team on. Mikoto-chan wanted to see your setter friend and I wanted to see if the famous libero’s still got his game.” She winks then and from his peripheral, he can see Asahi shift against the railing. 

“You know it! Blew ‘em away in the last match.” He puffs his chest out and grins from ear to ear, pride swelling for his team. 

“Maybe I can be your good luck charm and you’ll win this one, too,” Ushikira says, her tone suggestive enough that it makes Noya’s cheeks flush from embarrassment. 

“We can always use the luck, but my team’s skill is top notch,” he begins before he hears his name to switch back onto the court. He motions toward the game with an apologetic hunch of his shoulders. “That’s me.”

“Go get ‘em, Nishinoya-kun! If you win, maybe I’ll take you out for ramen this time.”

He doesn’t quite know what to do with that spontaneous invitation, so he chooses to say nothing and waves mid-jog. As he passes, he glances up to where Asahi is only to find him seemingly trying to focus on _not_ looking at Noya. 

_Okay, what’s that about?_

It has him stumped for a second, but the momentum of the game leaves no room for distractions, no room to think about anything but the win that’s within arm’s reach. And so he pushes it out of his mind, convinced that he’s misunderstood somehow. That Asahi’s behavior hasn’t caused an uncomfortable knot in his gut.

But when the game ends to the tune of Karasuno’s landslide win, the first thing he does is look up at the stands, adrenaline pumping and riding a buzzing high for the second time that day. His elation is cut short, however, and not even Ushikira’s enthusiastic cheers can temper the sting quickly rooting itself in his chest. 

Asahi is already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set up a few things and ended up hurting myself in the process. Go me. haha. This chapter got a little bit away from me and what originally started out as a plan for 5K has turned into this behemoth. Hope you enjoyed it and as always, all your commentary seriously gives me life and fuels my motivation to crank out updates. I have some of the best readers ever; you guys rock! ♡
> 
> -H


	6. The One With the Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asahi's absence has Noya coming to terms with a few things while Tanaka tries to wrestle with some demons of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really should stop kidding myself with the 5K word count aspirations. haha

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: just wanted to make sure u were ok  
[text]: kinda gettin worried  
[text]: yeah ok um  
[text]: let me know yeah?

Noya stares at his phone, eyebrows pinched together in concentration, wondering if he can somehow play some kind of Jedi mind trick on the device or Asahi or both. But the phone remains quiet. No beeps to indicate a new message, no sudden blare of music to alert him to a call coming through. Nothing, same as the last twenty-four hours. 

And it’s driving him up a wall. 

“Are you all right, Nishinoya-kun?”

Ushikira’s voice snaps him out of his momentary stare-down, eyes blinking at her as though just remembering that she was still there. 

Crap. Right. Lunch. 

She sits opposite him, her chopsticks poised mid-air, chashu pork wedged between the wood. A sudden guilty sensation churns in his gut. For not being entirely present during the nice meal he’d agreed to. For not doing more to dissuade her hopeful glances or the questions she asks in the interest of getting to know him better. For feeling nothing but a growing anxiety at the unanswered text messages. 

For thinking about Asahi when there is a girl, who seems really cool by all standards, sitting across from him. Showing genuine interest in a way that usually would have made him excited. Encouraged, even. 

Tugging his bangs, he whips a puff of air out in a sigh.

And maybe hates himself a little. 

“Is your food okay?” she prompts again, her expression clearly showing that though Noya’s tried to keep up with their mostly one-sided conversation, he is miserably failing. “I know it’s nothing compared to the ramen place you went to when we met, but it seems kinda weird for me to go there on my day off when I’m there all the time, you know?”

Noya toys with the noodles now growing soggy in the murky broth. “It’s not that; food’s actually pretty good--”

He checks his phone again when he hears a ding, only to be disappointed when it’s a text message from Ennoshita instead. 

**Received From: cap’n**  
[text]: hey Nishinoya  
[text]: sorry to bother you but have you talked to Tanaka?  
[text]: we were supposed to go over things from the matches but he hasn’t been answering my texts.

**Sent To: cap’n**  
[text]: havent talked to him today  
[text]: maybe try callin?

**Received From: cap’n**  
[text]: tried that too. twice is enough I think lol  
[text]: I don’t know if he forgot but if you talk to him can you let him know I was looking for him?

**Sent To: cap’n**  
[text]: sure thing!  
[text]: he probably slept in by accident  
[text]: hey u ok tho? u seemed kinda off  
[text]: have been since trainin camp  
[text]: did u n ryuu get ur stuff straightened out?

He debates going into more detail, but freaking Ennoshita out about anything Tanaka has told him when he’s not entirely sure what’s going on is probably on this side of a bad idea. Besides, it’s not his place even if he’s got some sort of innate need to fix whatever’s been eating his best friend’s metaphorical shorts, details be damned. One of them has to keep a level head and considering how well he’s been doing on his end with Asahi, Tanaka seems a likelier contender for the job. Probably. 

**Received From: cap’n**  
[text]: I’m okay. Just a little bummed out with the loss I guess.  
[text]: and Tanaka’s been acting weird so it’s throwing the team dynamic off in general.  
[text]: sorry to worry you though. tell him I need to talk to him when you get a hold of him okay?

**Sent To: cap’n**  
[text]: will do!

Then because he has to watch out for Tanaka either way:

**Sent To: cap’n**  
[text]: take it easy on him yeah?  
[text]: he’s got a lot on his mind  
[text]: see ya at practice tmrw

“Sorry,” he says, offering Ushikira the closest to an apologetic grin as he can manage. “That was the captain. I think I need to go.”

Her eyes widen for a few seconds as though she’s just realized that he’s essentially bailing on their lunch date. “O-Oh, yeah, that’s totally cool! I completely understand! Volleyball stuff, right?” 

The guilt spreads, becomes heavier to wade through, and he doesn’t quite understand why he’s just lied to her about having to leave, but he feels the jumping bean routine coming full force and he’d rather not have to sit there and try to keep a handle on it while making an attempt to pay attention. Especially when the reason is something he can’t exactly explain either. 

“Yeah, volleyball stuff,” he says, trying to hide the wince when the guilt stabs him somewhere in his gut hard enough that internal bleeding might not be an unlikely concept.

His phone pings again.

**Received From: cap’n**  
[text]: him and everyone else.  
[text]: have a good rest of your weekend and don’t be late to practice.

“Let me get the check,” he offers, hailing the server from the other side of the room. “Least I can do since you had to put up with my bein’ a total space cadet today.”

But she waves him off and grabs the bill when the server sets it on their table before he has a chance to protest. “Nope! I said I’d treat you after you won the second game and I’m always good on my word. Besides, you didn’t even eat most of yours and I’d feel rotten that you had to pay for food you didn’t like.”

“The food was fine, I’m just--”

She shakes her head and laughs. “Don’t worry about it. Maybe next time I can make it up to you, even if I have to eat where I work as a trade-off.”

Even though the warning bells in his head are going off, sirens and flashing strobes lights and all, his voice speaks before his brain can issue directions. “Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

 

It’s hours later when Noya returns home. His feet ache and the rest of him doesn’t fare much better, but he needed the walk. Needed to clear his head. Needed to be by himself, with his own thoughts, all the while checking his phone like the stupid thing might have somehow malfunctioned and eaten messages he knows aren’t there. 

No matter how much he wants them to be. 

He’d texted Suga after he left the restaurant and hailed Ushikira a cab, the coward’s way out so he wouldn’t have to walk her back to the train station. It made him more than a little angry at himself, more than a little disappointed. He’s never taken to cowardice with anything in his whole life, had always been up front and open like a book (familial history notwithstanding), and his lack of veracity in this situation is off-putting. 

**Sent To: suga-san**  
[text]: hi! i know it’s kinda weird that i’m texting u since i haven’t done it in a while  
[text]: have u by any chance heard from asahi?  
[text]: u guys left so quick after the match that i didnt get a chance to say bye

His lower lip was raw, bitten, and closely in danger of splitting from the abuse of his worrying. It also hadn’t helped that it took Suga a good ten minutes to reply. 

**Received From: suga-san**  
[text]: No, no! Not weird at all! How are you doing? We heard about the loss. :(  
[text]: And Asahi’s fine. He had something come up and had to leave.  
[text]: I’m sorry we didn’t say anything, but you were mid-game.

Oh. Maybe all the overthinking had been for nothing. If something had happened, maybe something at home or with Arata, Asahi would definitely rush home to help. But the unanswered text messages still weighed heavily on his conscience and so he pressed Suga again.

**Sent To: suga-san**  
[text]: no worries! just wondered is all  
[text]: i havent been able to get a hold of him and i thought u might know if he was ok  
[text]: i’ll just try again. thx for lettin me know n sorry for botherin u if u were in the middle of somethin!

Suga’s next response brought back the unsettling sensation he’d been trying not to think about. 

**Received From: suga-san**  
[text]: It’s not a problem. :) You know you’re always welcome to text.   
[text]: You might want to give Asahi a few days though.  
[text]: I know this is probably useless to say, but I hope you and the rest of the team are okay. Losses are hard.   
[text]: Please remember to eat and sleep. And don’t overwork yourselves during practice! You still have the rest of the season and I know you’ll all do your best. :)

After reassuring Suga that he would, indeed, try to follow all of his suggestions, the knot in his stomach returned with what his former vice captain had said about Asahi, but now the worry about the next tournament added to the weight he already carried. 

And now he’s home, the house empty. And maybe a little lonely. No inane chatter and loud voices to distract him, to keep him from retreating back into his own head where there is sure to be a truckload of overthinking he definitely doesn’t want to submit to.

Give Asahi a few days. That’s what Suga had said. 

The more he tries not to think about it, the more thinking he does. And it does nothing but drive him up a fucking wall, frustrated noises and all. 

He drops his book bag on the floor, hands wringing and brain muddled about the inexplicable departure. Suga’s text messages had sounded reasonable enough, logical enough that Noya has no reason to question them, but something about the replies sits uneasy in the pit of his gut. Churns there like some kind of metaphorical monster lurking in the shadows and he’s the idiot main character who calls out for it instead of waiting it out and letting it pass. 

Which would be the smart thing to do. 

But then again, genius at certain aspects of volleyball, but other things, not so much. 

Asahi’s face pops into his head, the way the strands fall over his eyes, the quiet smile followed by the laugh that echoes in Noya’s head like some sort of taunting reminder that he’s fucked up. That he’s made a mistake somehow, even if he has no idea what it is he’s done. 

The thought terrifies him.

He splays out on the tatami mat in his bedroom, cheek pressed against the textured surface, and slowly exhales. Phone in hand. Deliberating if he should follow Suga’s advice or what his instinct is wired to do.

Suga has always been some sort of mediator for the rest of the team when they’d had their squabbles and dumb arguments, and he’s always been a beacon of positivity. The avoider of all things confrontational. 

But maybe that’s why Noya doubts. Why he’s skeptical. 

Why he dwells on the unanswered messages burning a hole through whatever reassurances he has. 

**Sent To: ryuu**  
[text]: no answer yet  
[text]: rlly gettin worried now

It’s a few minutes before Tanaka responds and the sound startles Noya out of his attempt to focus on something else, something less inclined to warp his mind into overthinking about things that should be simple. 

**Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: did u try again today?  
[text]: maybe somethin happened with that kid brother u said he takes care of a lot  
[text]: not like u to worry this much about smthn  
[text]: he’ll prob text u when he’s done handlin what he needs to  
[text]: not like u text every day right?

Rubbing his cheek on the mat, Noya tries to think back on the last few months, tries to remember how long it’s been since he’d gone a day without talking to Asahi. That he can’t seem to remember speaks enough and the feeling sinks into his gut like stones intent on keeping it there. Maybe to torment him. Its undeniable presence makes him rub his face hard enough that chaffing is not far behind. 

And then he remembers the chaffing joke Asahi had made the first time he’d picked him up from practice and Noya maybe hates himself a little more. 

**Sent To: ryuu**  
[text]: we do  
[text]: hadnt really thought about it til u brought it up but we do  
[text]: i fucked up didnt i?

**Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: how exactly did u fuck up?  
[text]: by bein nice to a girl who came to cheer u on?  
[text]: by havin lunch with someone not asahi?  
[text]: tryin to understand how the hell u think u did smthn wrong but i gotta tell u bro  
[text]: dont think u did  
[text]: howd lunch go btw

**Sent To: ryuu**  
[text]: good i guess  
[text]: she’s pretty cool  
[text]: paid for food even tho i was a total space cadet

**Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: really gotta think about gettin u that buzz lightyear helmet haha  
[text]: she seemed like she’d be chill tho when u introduced her after the match  
[text]: cute too even if she looked way too much like ushiwaka for me to take it srsly lol  
[text]: u need me to come over?

**Sent To: ryuu**  
[text]: nah  
[text]: need to work on my sketches anyway  
[text]: not think for a while. clear my head of all this crap yknow?  
[text]: c u at school tmrw

**Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: okay if ur sure  
[text]: comin to get u at ass oclock. be ready so we dont get in trouble with the volleyball parental

**Sent To: ryuu**  
[text]: daddy kink. ;) didnt know u rolled that way butterbean

**Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: im revokin ur bff card

**Sent To: ryuu**  
[text]: oh god no not the bff card! my life is over........ HOW WILL I LIVE???  
[text]: dipshit  
[text]: stop avoidin chikara  
[text]: he texted me earlier tryin to get a hold of u

**Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: shut up  
[text]: i’ll handle it  
[text]: night dweeb nugget

**Sent To: ryuu**  
[text]: dont shoot the messenger lol ttyt  
[text]: night turd waffle

* * *

 

“That toss was a little high, Yamaguchi. Try angling your elbows out a little more to control the spring.”

“Y-Yeah, okay! Thanks, Kageyama-kun.”

Noya bends his knees, defensive stance at the ready, and watches as Ukai slams another ball down toward one of the first years. The receive is a little wobbly, not quite as solid as the one before it, but it manages to go up high enough that Yamaguchi is able to scramble into position. His face screws in concentration, tongue sticking out as he follows Kageyama’s direction and gives the next toss to Hinata. 

“Come on, come on, aim it right at me,” Noya mutters, foot poised to pivot in case he needs to adjust his position. 

With a loud cry, Hinata takes flight and the ball drives toward Noya at an alarming speed. A split second decision and he cradles the ball mid-forearms, sending it back to where the setter on his side of the net would be. He gives a double thumbs up, more than a little excited that the new pieces of their team arsenal is coming together better than he expected. 

“That was awesome, Shouyou! Way to go, Yamaguchi! You too, Onodera! One more, one more!”

Yamaguchi looks at him and blinks, likely surprised at the compliment or his decent set or both. He gives Noya a small nod, a touch of embarrassment in the grin he offers. But pleased. Definitely pleased. 

“You’re doing great, Yamaguchi-kun! One more, one more!” Ennoshita calls out, his eyes trained on Tanaka. “When you hit it toward me, try and aim it to bounce out of the receive.”

Coach Ukai slams down another, Tsukishima’s receive sending the ball directly toward Yamaguchi again. He sets it up for Tanaka, but just as he’s about to hit it toward Ennoshita, he changes his angle so the spike curves toward Noya instead. It hits him square in the chest. Knocks the wind out of him and forces him to take a knee, gasping for air.

“Ah, fuck...”

“Shit, Noya, I didn’t mean to--”

But Ennoshita interrupts Tanaka, fists clenched at his sides. “What the hell was that?! You could’ve seriously hurt him!”

Noya holds up a hand and sucks in a breath, shaking his head to show he’s all right. “I shifted enough that it didn’t do much damage. I’m okay,” he wheezes, managing a cheeky grin as he shoots Tanaka a meaningful look. Tanaka walks off the court with a scowl as the rest of the team looks on, confused and mildly discomfited. “I think we’re good for today, though, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ennoshita says evenly, “We’re done for today.” 

Apparently Ukai feels the same way because he claps his hands together, signaling the end of practice. “First years start putting the equipment away after you’re done stretching. Ennoshita. I need a word.”

From the other side of the court, Tanaka dips his head to motion him over for stretch downs. And probably some hashing over things that have nothing to do with the semi-grueling practice they’ve just gone through. With how Tanaka refuses to look at Ennoshita, Noya is thinking the latter, but on the upside - if Tanaka wants to talk about that, he’ll be too busy to ask about his deal with Asahi.

Which, in all honesty, makes him want to flip a couple of desks, run a few dozen laps, maybe invest an obscene amount of time in finishing that video game he's been stuck on. Nothing sucks more than pent-up frustration with a side of anxiety. Especially when it comes with a dash of that old nausea he hasn't felt in a while.

Noya plops down next to him with a groan, dragging the collar of his shirt above his eyebrows to soak up the sweat he seems to be expending like a faucet. “Guessin’ you haven’t talked to Chikara yet?”

With a grunt, Tanaka leans forward and inches his fingers toward the tips of his shoes. “What makes you think that?”

“’Cause I almost took a ball in the face while you were busy tryin’ to pretend Chikara doesn’t exist. Your ‘mental fortitude’ needs a little work, bro.” Noya mimics Tanaka’s position and groans as he eases into the stretch. “It’s been weeks. When are ya gonna man up?”

“It’s complicated, all right? Shit.” Tanaka’s response comes out hissed, more than a little rattled, causing a few of the first years as well as Kageyama and Hinata to freeze mid-exercise and stare. Dropping his voice to a whisper, Tanaka continues, “’Sides, I don’t see your ass doin’ anything ‘bout Asahi either. Pot and kettle, right?”

“Black and bleak,” Noya murmurs in agreement. From his peripheral, he notices Ennoshita glance their way before turning back to whatever Coach Ukai is saying. The likelihood of Tanaka saying anything that walls can hear is slim to none, so he improvises. “You wanna hang later? My mom’s workin’ late, but we can grab food on the way and, I dunno, slack off and finish that new _Infamous_ game I got? Or I guess talk or whatever.”

“Yep, I’m in,” Tanaka says, the crease between his eyebrows deepening when Ennoshita waves him over. He angles his arm over his shoulder and tethers his fingers together before pulling in opposite directions. “I’m bein’ summoned. ‘Leadership stuff’ and all that jazz. Well, not that ki-- I-- mmph, ya know what I mean. Meet ya in the club room and then we can head out.”

“Sure thing, sunflower. Don’t do anythin’ stupid.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, somethin’ that might make Chikara bury you out in the middle of the desert.”

“We’re nowhere near a desert.”

“Exactly. Chikara’s a crafty bastard. Dad 2.0.”

“If you start callin’ me ‘revered mother 2.0’, I’m gonna kick your ass into next week--”

“Nah, that’d be Yamaguchi.”

“Yamagu-- what?!” Then Tanaka pauses to consider it and tilts his head with a shrug. “Yeah, okay. I can kinda see that. But I still don’t--”

Noya clears his throat when he catches Ennoshita looking their way again and entertains thoughts of death by torture-like practice sessions in the likelihood that Ennoshita’s developed some sort of super sonic hearing. “Shit, he’s givin’ ya the ‘Captain’ look. Better get over there before he really does drop you off in the middle of nowhere.”

* * *

 

A couple of hours later, they’re splayed out on the tatami mats, Noya with a game controller in hand while Tanaka attempts to walk him through a questionable scene. Their review workbooks lay opened and untouched next to the empty ramen bowls littering the floor. Noya is about to move up a level to get the next boss, but then Tanaka says:

“Chikara’s got piercings.”

“What?! No way!” Noya says, tongue peeking out as he obliterates the thugs guarding the room he’s trying to get into. “He’s too vanilla for that shit.”

“He does, though,” Tanaka insists, now intently staring at the guidebook like it was the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. When Noya finally turns toward him, Tanaka’s ears are red, his cheeks tinged with the same color as he chews the edge of his lip. 

“I’ve never seen him wear it. Oh shit, please don’t tell me he’s got a dick p--”

“What! No, what the hell?!” Tanaka’s face turns an alarming shade of crimson. Then he scrubs his face and bows forward with a loud groan. “But thanks for makin’ me think about it now, asshole.”

“I’m pretty sure you already think about Chikara’s dick without needin’ additional prompting.”

“I--” With a slight pause, Tanaka grumbles something unintelligible. 

Noya leans in, sticks his finger in his mouth, and swipes at Tanaka’s ear, earning him a yelp and a scrambling glare while he’s at it. “You, what, now?”

“God damn it, did you seriously just--?” Rubbing his ear with the hem of his shirt, Tanaka reaches over, grabs a pillow off the futon, and whacks Noya with it before dropping the thing on the floor and face diving into it. Dramatic flair and all. Again, he mumbles something inaudible and, this time, Noya scoots closer and nudges him. Encouraging. Just with enough prodding to see if he’ll open up, but not so much that Tanaka shuts down. Funny, he thinks, how they have that trait in common. 

With a sigh, Tanaka turns and presses his cheek against the cushion and Noya is surprised by how entirely lost he looks. Childlike, almost. It triggers Noya’s protective instincts something fierce and makes him feel completely helpless all in one breath. 

He’s reminded of how Tanaka had been when he first told Noya about his sorry excuse of an uncle. More than a little scared. Vulnerable. Completely out of his element. Tanaka had gone through a lot of fucked up shit when he was younger, he remembers, and it took a while for Tanaka to come to terms with all of it. Looking back on it now, it might even be the reason he’s so against wanting to admit that part of himself, no matter how supportive of Noya he’s been.

Looking at him now, it’s a little like that, too. And while Noya’s going through his own shit that he’s still trying to work around in his head, something about Tanaka’s expression makes Noya believe that maybe his best friend’s gotten further than he has to figuring things out. 

“You’re kinda killin’ me with the suspense here, lemon drop.”

Tanaka’s face contorts and his Adam’s apple bobs sideways as he struggles to swallow. “I think I’m into him.”

Noya snorts and rolls his eyes. “You don’t say? I’m figurin’ you had to have been if you were messin’ around.”

“I know, but it’s different when it’s just that. Just sex, I mean. Don’t get me wrong, I thought he was pretty chill before we started hookin’ up, but I dunno...” Tanaka lifts his shoulders just a fraction. “Honestly, I was tryin’ not to think about it. I keep rememberin’ that girl or guy or whatever that used to visit my uncle and--” He pauses and sucks in a breath. ”I was kinda scared I’d turn out that way, too. Like want to be... that.”

“Okay, I’m no genius at this, but I’m pretty sure that just ‘cause you’re into guys, doesn’t automatically mean you wanna turn into a girl. Or dress like one or whatever. There are guys who are into guys that are still guys. ‘Sides, I’m also pretty sure that you’re into both. At least to an extent. You had it pretty bad for Kiyoko. But I dunno. You could always Google it.” Noya chuckles before he carefully redirects, “So... you’re into him. S’that what the fight was about? At the lodge?”

“Kinda.” The pillow gets another face-full and all Noya can make out is a muffled, “ _I fucked up. I fucked up so bad._ ”

Noya sets the game controller down and rests his chin on his forearm. “Least you know what you did.”

“Don’t think that helps me any,” Tanaka says before resuming his previous position. “Look at us. Pathetically wasting away all of the awesome. I feel the life force drainin’, all our cool points down the shitter.”

“Way to be the sad panda. And I thought I was bad. We keep this up and our ‘senpai’ titles might be revoked.” The comment earns him a snort from Tanaka and seems to have lightened the somber mood. “What happened at camp anyway? Is he not into ya that way?”

Tanaka shuts his eyes like the act of dredging up the memory is physically painful. “Not exactly,” he says, exhaling sharply. “I kinda pushed him away, y’know? I mean, we’re in the equipment room ‘cause that’s usually where we--”

“Please spare me details I can’t ever unhear.”

“-- _anyway_ , we were in there doin’... stuff. But somethin’ was off; I could tell. Chikara had been weird before camp and I thought it was just him stressin’ about gettin’ the team in shape.”

“Yeah, he mentioned that a few times. He really doesn’t give himself enough credit. Comparin’ himself to Daichi all the time.” Noya scoffs and gives his head a little shake. 

“You wanna hear the rest or are ya gonna keep goin’ about his calves next?” There’s teasing in Tanaka’s tone and Noya stretches out for the other pillow before whacking him over the head with it. “Ow! Shit! I’m just tryin’ to lighten the funeral party!”

“Pretty sure you’re the one gettin’ the close ups of his calves these days,” Noya shoots back, cheeky grin in place. “But okay, yeah, continue. You were doin’ Chikara in the equipment room with a lightning rod...”

“What the fuck, Noya.”

“Sorry! Sounded like somethin’ outta that one game. Clue... right? And lightning rod was the first thing that popped into my head. Actually, candlestick was, but,” he says with a grimace, “that sounds like it’d hurt.”

“And a lightning rod wouldn’t? Okay, shit, we’re gettin’ off topic again.” Then Tanaka chuckles. “Lightning Rod sounds like a bad porn name for my dick, though.”

“I’d totally call my dick Lightning Rod.”

“You would.”

“Lightning Rod. Rollin’ Thunder. You sensin’ a theme here?”

“Just make sure you don’t damage the Lightning Rod with your Rollin’ Thunder. You might need that at some point.”

“Haha, very funny, precious flower. Just ‘cause you’ve already gotten some game time with your joystick, doesn’t mean you gotta rub it in.” Noya gives him another whack with the pillow for good measure and continues, “anyway, bangin’ in the equipment room and then what?”

Tanaka rubs his cheek against the pillow and makes a pinched noise. “We were finishin’ up and he just says outta nowhere that he maybe doesn’t wanna do it anymore. ‘It was fun while it lasted’. That sorta thing. So I asked why and he got really quiet. I thought it was ‘cause we were kinda occupied. But then he just blurts it out that he was into me. Like, I dunno, not just some random fuck-buddy.”

“Soundin’ good so far. What’s the problem?”

“I freaked! That’s the problem. And maybe kinda shoved him away mid-neck assault and said somethin’ about makin’ shit complicated.” Biting his lip, he manages a laugh; dry, humorless, and oddly enough, something Noya understands. “He looked at me funny, like I’d just decked him. It hurt seein’ that. Hurt even more knowin’ it was ‘cause of me. Pretty sure that was my ‘come to Jesus’ moment. Just hit me outta nowhere, but by then damage was already done and shit spiraled and you saw what happened after.”

“So fix it.” When Tanaka looks at him like he was speaking Alien, he rolls his eyes. “You said he’s into you.”

“Right.”

“And you’re into him.”

“Yeah.”

Noya groans. “Is the bro-meter broken? The communication satellites must be fried. How are you so Siamese with what I’m thinkin’ most of the time, but you’re literally missin’ the whole connect the dot deal I’m spellin’ out for you?”

“You wanna be the pot or the kettle this time?”

“Not the same. Chikara’s told ya, outright, that he’s into you. No guessin’ games, no weird button shit you have to Google to figure out. Clean. Cut and dry. You’re just bein’ a stubborn dipshit.”

“I thought I was into girls, man,” Tanaka says as he rubs his face on the pillow again, frustrated noise muffled, but clear. 

“Doesn’t mean you still aren’t. But right now, it’s not girls ya gotta worry about. It’s Chikara. You don’t have to come outta the closet. You can stay as far into that goddamn closet as you want ‘til you’re old and gray. I’m not exactly one to judge. But I can see this shit eatin’ you up and I know Chikara’s off his game, too.”

Then Tanaka blurts, “I’m scared. It’s stupid, right? V.C. and Ace of the team and somethin’ like this fucking terrifies me.”

“Preachin’ to the choir. Except Chikara’s already given you somethin’ to work with. He did the hard part. Took one for the team. What do ya have to be scared of?”

“I dunno. That he changed his mind? That shit’ll be weird and it’ll be my fault if the team dynamic goes to hell. Then there’s that whole thing about turnin’ into a girl. Or somethin’. I don’t even know how that shit works, honestly.”

“I don’t either. But ya know what? Doesn’t matter. You can prance in here like a drag queen ready for your first rodeo and I’d still think you were one of the coolest guys I know. Or girl. Ya know, if that ends up bein’ your thing.”

“Now’s not the time to make me weirdly emotional, bro.”

“Point is, you either drag it out or grow a pair and talk to him. Either way, the team dynamic’s affected ‘cause you and Chikara are avoidin’ each other like the zombie virus.” 

“Guess I should. One condition, though. You gotta smooth shit over with Asahi.”

“And here I thought this was a dictatorship, not a democracy. No way! He hasn’t returned any of my texts. Not one. 'Sides, Suga said to give him a few days.”

“Then text him in a few days. You know you’re itchin’ to do it anyway.” Tanaka taps the side of his head. “I don’t need the same brainwaves to see that, but havin’ ‘em doesn’t hurt either. You never know; could’ve just been somethin’ he had to deal with at home. His brother, maybe.”

“All right, fine. Benefit of the doubt. But just so you know, there’s probably a ninety-five percent chance that he’s not gonna respond anyway.”

“Then there’s still that five percent I can put my money on. And I’m bettin’ he does.”

Noya laughs at the certainty in Tanaka’s declaration. “Aw, bromeo. Always the eternal optimist.” 

“All part of my charm.” With a fond rumple of Noya’s hair, Tanaka’s laughter joins in, his mood considerably lighter. “Ahhhh, okay, okay, this complicated shit is exhaustin’. I say we deplete the rest of our dwindling brain cells tryin’ to figure out how you’re gonna beat this game. What say you, sunbeam?”

“Ya read my mind, moondrop.”

* * *

 

A few days later, Noya’s phone taunts him from atop the small desk pushed against the wall. He’s sprawled out on his futon, trying to ignore the white noise currently taking up his brainspace, pencil in hand and sketchbook open. Attempting to focus is harder than he expects, especially when the page is covered in half-done doodles, smooth and rough lines blending together in the image of the one person he’s trying to shove out of his head. 

He glances at his desk, the edge of the phone peeking visible from where he’s positioned. Like a staring contest he’s losing. And really, he’s losing a lot more than a damn staring contest if he’s taken to having one with an inanimate object. With a sharp exhale, he pushes himself up and makes a grab for it. Girds his loins. And opens it to the chat window containing a slew of unanswered messages. 

Air in. 

Air out.

Not weird.

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: havent heard back frm u  
[text]: wondered if u were still goin to the art show w arata tmrw  
[text]: if not its cool but i needed to know if i was havin kensho pull arata’s piece  
[text]: hope everythings good

The last text sounds redundant, like the last fifteen he’d sent hadn’t said the same thing in varying contexts. But it’s been sent. Nothing to do about it now but wait. He’s still banking on throwing it in Tanaka’s face that his five percent pity optimism is likely wasted on Noya’s situation and should be used, instead, toward fixing whatever’s going on with him and Ennoshita. But then his phone beeps a minute later. Suddenly, he feels a little like puking. Something like some bad hangover, except without the alcoholic entertainment from the night before. 

Bad for the tatami mats. 

Definitely bad for the tatami mats. 

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: What time is it again?

Noya releases the breath he hasn’t realized he’s holding and waits to see if any others come through. After a good minute, he bites the inside of his cheek and replies.

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: same as the last four uve gone to  
[text]: if u dont wanna go its really okay i’ll just tell kensho to pull it  
[text]: wouldnt be right without arata there anyway  
[text]: have a good night yeah?

He’s not sure if the chest constricting thing is normal or if this is what it feels like when someone’s having some sort of heart something or other, but he clutches his shirtfront and plops back down on the futon. Grabbing one of the pillows buried under the blanket, he hugs it tight against him and breathes out slow. Easy. Wills his heart to cooperate and chest seizures to quit it. 

Air in.

Air out.

His phone beeps again and he’s almost afraid to look. On the one hand, he’s already expecting Asahi to change his mind, to say he can’t make it, “maybe some other time” or something equally as generic that you say to someone you have no interest in seeing. But on the other hand, Asahi’s lack of communication makes his reaction an unknown and after working himself up over it even before he managed the first text, Noya is fairly sure that spending an awkward afternoon with Asahi, even with Arata as a buffer, is enough to have him spazzing out a little. 

Maybe more than a little. 

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: Wait! I didn’t mean for you to take it  
[text]: that way. Sorry, I hit send by accident.   
[text]: Arata was really looking forward to it, so of course we’ll be there.

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: oh  
[text]: okay then. u wanna get lunch beforehand?

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: I can’t. I have something before that.  
[text]: Would you mind meeting us at the train station instead of having us get on the train you’re already on?  
[text]: I’m not sure about timing, so it might be better that way.  
[text]: Or we can just meet you there.

Something about the texts strikes Noya as odd, though he can’t quite put his finger on what it is. But, as he’s already got a bunch of other things in Worryville taking up his head space, his relief that Asahi is going takes precedence over everything else. Maybe after this, everything will go back to how it was and the growing knot making itself comfortable in his gut would finally loosen indefinitely. 

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: it’s fine i can meet u at the station  
[text]: text u when i’m on my way

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: Sounds good. See you tomorrow.

Noya stares at the text, at how bland and clinical it sounds, and bites his lip in the process. Somehow, he feels like he’s let Asahi down, but the lack of information makes it that much harder to deal with when he doesn’t exactly have anything to go off of in terms of trying to fix whatever it is.

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: yeah c u tmrw  
[text]: night asahi

* * *

 

It takes Noya a full hour to get ready the next morning. He eats before he leaves; not because he’s hungry, but because the need to puke has made a spectacular comeback and he’s pretty sure he’s not doing anyone a favor by skipping out of something that can stabilize the churning party going on in his stomach. 

He almost misses his train as he skids to slow down just enough to make it through the sliding doors, pivoting in time to avoid a collision with one of the passengers standing near the entrance. Earbuds in place and sketchbook balanced on his lap, he shuts everything out and soon enough, he’s pulling into the station closest to Asahi’s house, the train hissing to a full stop as he scrambles to put his things away. 

Asahi and Arata are already there, and he lifts a hand to wave only to curl his fingers into his palm as stifles the gesture. There is someone else on the platform with them, laughing at something Asahi has just said. But that isn’t what makes Noya hesitate. He’s all too aware of the lack of proximity between them, of the comfortable way Asahi has allowed her into his personal space that Noya knows is completely out of the norm, of the easy way she is able to make Asahi smile. 

He forces a swallow. 

Arata, at least, seems to exude his usual demeanor, not paying her much attention, if at all. When he catches sight of Noya, however, his face lights up. A beacon of sorts. It gives Noya’s confidence a little boost and he makes a mental note to buy him a soda-flavored ice pop once the art show is done. 

As Noya nears, Arata gets up from his seat and shuffles over. He takes Noya by the hand and personally leads him back to where Asahi is left standing with the pretty brunette who looks so familiar that Noya wracks his brain trying to figure out where he’s seen her. 

And then it hits him.

His lip twitches, mouth suddenly cotton-dry that he has to make a conscious effort to school his expression into something that passes as “normal”. Friendly, even. As it is, even Arata’s enthusiastic tug of his hand isn’t enough to deter the conclusions his brain is making up on the spot like a bullet fired and ricocheting off every worrisome thought he’s had since Asahi’s abrupt departure from the match. 

“Hey,” he manages, surprised that the croaking sensation he feels in his throat hasn’t translated into the sound of his voice. 

“Ah, Nishinoya,” Asahi says with a nervous glance at his companion. The girl is about Noya’s height, pretty in that subtle way that isn’t overbearingly distracting, with a nice smile and graceful bow. Noya’s insides prickle, but with how she’s beaming at him, it makes it difficult not to reciprocate the amicability. “This is Wakamiya Riruka. She and I were in the same class at Karasuno.” Then he turns to the girl, palming his neck at the introduction. “Wakamiya-san, this is Nishinoya Yuu. One of my old teammates from the volleyball team.”

Whatever delusions Noya has about keeping any moisture in his mouth so that he doesn’t accidentally choke on his own tongue or something equally detrimental goes out the window. 

Old teammate. 

Right. 

Redirecting his focus on the girl, he remembers her now. With vivid clarity. Much more than he’d care to at this point, if he’s admitting things to the void.

Because the last time he’d seen her was at--

“Oh yeah! I think I recognize you from Asahi’s graduation ceremony. I’d wanted to say something to him afterward, but you guys looked pretty into your conversation, so I headed over to the gym to meet up with the rest of the team instead.”

“W-What?” Asahi looks slightly taken aback, but Wakamiya beams another smile at him and Noya feels his stomach twist with guilt at the sight. 

“Good memory! I’m sorry you had to get off your train,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before nudging Asahi teasingly. “I do recall telling a certain someone that I’d be perfectly all right catching the train by myself, but he wouldn’t have it.”

“Oh.” The lamest response in the history of responses and Noya suddenly has the urge to kick himself. So he quickly redirects, “did you happen to meet up here?”

At some point, he’s going to have to get his idiot meter fixed because he’s ultimately now just setting himself up for something he probably doesn’t want to hear. 

“No, actually. I was at Azumane-san’s house early this morning helping him with a few things and going over the new schedule for some of the study groups at cram school,” she says, offering Asahi an apologetic glance. “I’d hoped we’d be done earlier since he said he had somewhere else to be, but the time kinda got away from us.”

“Cram school?” Noya asks.

Wakamiya blinks at his response. “Oh, sorry, yes, Azumane-san’s been--”

“--helping her out there,” Asahi interrupts, just a little too quickly. Then he looks at Noya. “Like how I’ve been helping you with your coursework.”

“Right,” Wakamiya says, her response dragging slowly and leaving Noya with a twinge of unease. “He’s been a great... help.”

The look that passes between them is fleeting, much too fast to have been caught had Noya not been so raptly paying attention. Instantly, he feels like there’s an inside joke somewhere and he’s the only one in the circle who doesn’t get the punch line. But before either Wakamiya or Asahi can elaborate further, her train arrives, hissing to a stop behind them. 

“That’s you,” Asahi says, looking slightly relieved as he gathers up her bag and hands it over. “I’ll, um, see you on... Monday.”

“Of course! Don’t forget about that one thing,” she says, the continued vagueness tugging at Noya’s dwindling patience. “Nice to meet you, Nishinoya-kun!”

“Same here!” Noya manages, exceedingly wishing he’d brought something to drink with him that could obliterate the sand paper sensation in his throat.

Then she dips down and smiles at Arata. “See you later, Arata-kun.”

Arata sniffs to acknowledge the address, but does little else. Wakamiya doesn’t seem to mind as she steps onto the train and, with a final wave toward them, smiles when the doors slide shut.

Without looking at Asahi, he crouches down in front of Arata and grins. “I’ve got a few new sketches in my book that might need a second eye. Ya feel like takin’ a look for me?”

At the invitation, Arata’s expression brightens a fraction and makes Noya’s discomfort lessen considerably. “Only if you really want me to.”

“’Course! You made some really awesome suggestions on the other ones I showed ya, so I thought I’d see if you can work your magic again. Come on,” he says, motioning for him to follow toward the seating area near their train entrance. “We can look through ‘em over there.”

When Arata nods and follows, he doesn’t bother asking Asahi to join them. Even if he hears the shuffle of feet behind him, the accidental scuff of shoes against the cement. The way his heartbeat thunders in his ear and makes him wonder if this is what Tanaka felt like when he missed his chance in the equipment room.

* * *

 

Asahi is exceptionally quiet throughout the trip, instead choosing to nod and quirk a small grin when Arata addresses him before turning his gaze away again. Though he’s usually not as quick to fill the silences with unneeded conversation, something Noya has found he’s warmed up to since he’s started spending time with him, there’s a strain to it. An underlying tension that makes him slightly uncomfortable and being out of his element around Asahi puts him more on edge than he already is. 

It seems Asahi is purposely avoiding saying anything to him directly, as well as making any sort of contact that had generally not been that big a deal before all the weirdness started. Even when Asahi’s knee brushed against his when Arata decided he wanted to sit on Noya’s other side, there was a noticeable stillness before he quickly shifted away. 

Maybe Noya had misunderstood everything after all. Or Asahi had changed his mind, which is just as likely considering the abrupt change in behavior. Maybe there is no meaning to the button, that Noya saw more in the development of their half-baked, undefined mess of a relationship than there was. Or maybe there wasn’t much of anything there at all. 

Suddenly, it’s after the Dateko game all over again, Asahi pulling away, too far out of reach. It makes Noya’s chest tighten just a little. Maybe more than a little.

He supposes it’s better Asahi show it now before Noya gets in too deep, too attached, too invested only to realize that Asahi... isn’t. Not anymore. Maybe never was.

And then something else hits him. Like a lightbulb moment in those cartoons he used to watch as a kid. The singular thought finally clear.

_I like him._

His chest twinges and he resists grasping where the hollow sensation builds. 

_Admitting it is supposed to be a happy thought... right?_

As much as he tries to pretend nothing is weird, that there isn’t something strange and heavy inside of him trying to claw its way out, it doesn’t take a genius to spot the big ass elephant prancing around like he’s got game.

He shoves away the urge to text Tanaka.

By the time they reach the gallery, Asahi has barely said two words to him, shuffling alongside Noya and Arata in stony disquiet. A passerby strides past just as they’re opening the door and Asahi sidesteps to avoid being hit. His arm nudges against Noya’s, fingers lightly brushing the edge of Noya’s palm. Instantly, he retracts his hand and steps away like the contact somehow offends him. He opens his mouth as though to say something, but promptly closes it and instead manages to keep the door open to let them through. 

“Nishinoya-kun!”

Noya puts on big grin. Normal. Bright. Maybe too bright. “Kensho-san!”

Elaborate handshake out of the way, Noya gives a short bow toward the other two before he makes the introduction to their new addition. “This is the one I’ve been tellin’ ya about! Arata-kun’s been pumped since I told him about the gallery, so thought it’d be fun to show ‘im around. Give ‘im an up and close look at all the cool art you got lined up.”

Kensho’s grin widens as he drops down to a crouch. He keeps a considerable distance, just enough to be friendly, but not so much that he’s encroaching on the younger boy’s personal space. Next to him, Asahi lets out a quiet exhale, likely relieved, and Noya gives himself a mental pat on the back for remembering to tell Kensho about Arata’s particular interactive skills. 

“Look around as long as you like, yeah? Hope you’re as excited to see everything as much as we’re pretty stoked to have ya here!” Kensho holds his palm up and waits. 

After a moment, Arata glances first at Asahi, who nods and gives him an encouraging smile, then at Noya. With a bright grin to match the one he’s sure Kensho is straining to maintain, Noya nods as well and it’s then that Arata lifts his hand and lightly taps Kensho’s palm with his own. “Thanks.”

Grunting, Kensho rights himself and claps Noya’s shoulder. “All right, I’m gonna go make sure everything’s goin’ okay. There’s a couple of other new artists debuting today and they’re kinda on the--” He pauses and visibly cringes. “--temperamental side.”

“For sure, for sure! I’ll see ya in a bit. Is the thing we talked about up?”

“Yep! Lot twenty, near the back.” Then he drops his voice. “It’s already gotten fifteen bids. One of the most popular ones today, actually. Have you told him yet?”

Noya shakes his head. “Not yet, but I will when bids close. Thanks for doin’ this, man. Means a lot.”

“I should be the one thankin’ you! He’s gonna go far, that kid! Got a lot of promise! See ya in a bit; lemme know if you need anything!” 

And with that, he weaves through the other people milling around. Noya turns to Arata and laughs. “We got a lot of ground to cover. Where do ya wanna start?”

Arata brightens just a speck, but it’s enough to make Noya optimistic. He points to a few of the watercolor paintings on the wall and makes a small noise. “There.”

As they head over toward the display, Asahi’s expression doesn’t go unnoticed: awed, full of wonder and something else Noya can’t quite decipher, with a quiet grin that makes Noya’s gut twist and flip with a few somersaults in between. 

* * *

 

A few hours later, Arata’s mood is noticeably happier, less shut in as he looks at the different works on display with the same awe Noya remembers every time he sees a new piece that personally resonates with him. Spotting Kensho in the far corner, he gets a double thumbs up before he leads Arata and Asahi to the only area of the gallery they haven’t seen. 

Asahi fidgets and shuffles behind them, clearly a ball of nerves. When they reach Arata’s painting, Noya holds his breath. Arata abruptly stills before taking a few tentative steps toward it, tilting his head in bewilderment. Noya steps back to give him room and his hand accidentally nudges Asahi’s. He forces a swallow and automatically looks down then away, but as he’s about to utter an apology, Asahi returns the gesture. Hesitant at first. Tentative, but purposeful. Then he feels Asahi’s pinkie finger clumsily link with his.

The gesture is small, the tether loose even with the way it prickles on his skin. Barely anything at all. Except it is. 

Noya blinks. 

His brain goes a million thoughts per millisecond, all in every wayward direction, and sense seems to be a distant memory. He’s hyper-aware of the drum line concerto his heartbeat is making, the dampness staining his palms, the soft rush of air as Asahi inhales and exhales, his link with Noya’s finger more than a little shaky. But secure. Sure enough that Asahi doesn’t let go.

But a minute later, the euphoric moment is over as Arata backs away and nearly trips when his shoe scuffs against the floor. “I, um, can we go?” he asks quietly, his breathing coming out faster than normal. Noya recognizes the signs, sees the outcome before the onset begins. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

When he turns to face them, Asahi breaks their connection and takes a knee in front of his brother. “Hey, kiddo. Look at me,” he says, tone hushed, worry in every word. Arata’s breathing quickens, his eyes glistening as he clutches his chest. “Calm, okay? Remember what we practiced? Count down and take a breath. Ten, nine, eight--”

“I-- I can’t-- nii-san, _can’t_ \--” Arata gasps and presses his lips together. Noya doesn’t have a chance to react. In the next second, Asahi has his arms around the smaller boy, heart to heart lined up in a staggered angle, as he murmurs something only Arata can hear. 

People are starting to stare, whispers drifting toward them, their gazes a mixture of concern and curiosity. Noya has the urge to yell at them to go away, but causing more attention might make Arata worse. A loud voice calls out among the white noise, the crowd parting when Kensho rushes through, bid slips in hand. 

“Highest bid in the pl--” he starts before skidding to a stop. “What’s going on? Is he okay?”

Noya nods, watches while Arata closes his eyes and listens to whatever Asahi is saying. He knows better than to interrupt, knows how it feels when your chest is tight and everything is so overwhelming that the world spins and spins with no end in sight. And so he waits. Waits for Arata’s breathing to even out, for his eyes to open, for the steeled line of his mouth to soften. 

Asahi pulls away and holds him by the arms. Speaks quietly and reassuringly, though Noya can’t hear the words. There’s a crowd around them now, but at Kensho’s direction, no one breaks the silence. Arata nods at something Asahi says before his eyes flicker toward Noya. Then to Kensho. He seems to struggle with what to say, but he offers the ghost of a smile before he mumbles, “Thank you for showing my painting.”

* * *

 

“How did ya know what to do back there?” Noya asks Asahi a short while later, hands stuffed in his pockets.

The walk and ride back to Asahi’s house is considerably less strained than earlier in the day. While Arata’s initial response could have gone better, the consequent result proved his theory right. Arata had been surprisingly pleased, even if he did little more than nod and mumble a few words after agreeing to let Kensho see a few more of his finished paintings. 

There’s a glow to him now, something Noya recognizes all too well; that early sense of pride, the wonderment.

“I don’t know, actually,” Asahi admits with a quiet chuckle. He palms the back of his neck and shrugs. “I read a lot, I guess. Different techniques about how to deal with stuff like that. He hasn’t had one in a while, but I remember how it was the first time. I didn’t know what to do. So, when it was over, I promised myself I wouldn’t be that helpless again. Not when it comes to something that matters. And he matters.”

Noya watches Asahi through the admission, watches the way his jaw sets, sees the determination there. The fire. He remembers when that flame had rekindled, remembers it grow from the embers, the ashes of who Asahi had been when Asahi rejoined the team.The memory warms him, makes him more in awe than he already is. “You’d be a natural at it, I think. Workin’ with kids like Arata. I know you said uni’s not your thing, but I’m sure if it was, that’d be somethin’ you’d be great at.”

They reach Asahi’s house and Arata gives Noya back his iPod. He holds up his palm for a high five, grins wide for the first time since Noya’s met him, and shuffles into the house. Being alone with Asahi again after the time apart has nervousness and doubt turning Noya’s stomach into a butterfly cavern. 

“I’m sorry--”

“Listen, I’m sorry--”

“What?”

“Wait, what?”

Noya scuffs his shoe on the ground and Asahi clears his throat. There’s a beat of silence before Noya jumps in, figuring now that Asahi’s communicating, he might as well press his luck. 

“Are ya mad? At me, I mean.”

Asahi’s eyebrows furrow, the crease in between deepening when he realizes that Noya’s question is sincere. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“I dunno.” Noya shrugs. It feels exponentially more stupid to say the things burrowing black holes into his thoughts now that he has the chance to air them out in the open. There’s so much he wants to know, so many things he’s thought about in the past few days, but all that comes out is, “you never answered my texts.”

Even in the dim light, Noya sees the faint tint of color on Asahi’s face. He sweeps a hand over the top of his head, the gesture causing a few strands to come loose. (Why does that look attractive _every. time_?) “Okay, yeah, I guess that’s fair. I just-- I needed to handle something, but then by the time it came time to respond, you’d already stopped texting. I thought you were mad because I hadn’t responded, so I felt dumb about replying so late. Stupid, I know.”

“The stupidest,” Noya says, biting back a small grin. But that still left one thing. “You left the game without sayin’ anything.”

“I-- I had to, um, get home. My brother,” he says, hands waving to the side in vague gestures. “Besides, you had your own little cheering squad already, so I didn’t think it would be a big deal if I left...”

Noya stares. “Are you shittin’ me right now?”

The response causes Asahi to drop his gaze, his shoulders following. He seems smaller somehow, hunched over like that, and Noya feels something tug inside his chest. “I don’t--” he starts before he heaves a sigh and chances a look at Noya. “She seemed really excited to see you.”

“So?”

“You seemed really excited to see her.”

“I was,” Noya agrees, still not following. “She’s a friend and we’ve been textin’ ‘cause her brother drives her nuts with how much he talks about volleyball and she thought I’d find it funny. Which I do. But that’s besides the point. I invited _you_ to come watch the match. She just happened to be there. Then, when we won, the first person I looked for...” Noya sucks in a breath and exhales slowly. He gives Asahi a pointed look. “You left.”

“I-I’m sorry...”

Without preamble, Noya throws caution to the wind and surges at him. His arms wind around Asahi, face pressed so close that he can smell the hint of springtime laundry detergent mixed with the lingering scent of Asahi’s aftershave. “You’re so dumb,” he says, the words muffled against Asahi’s shirt. 

“The dumbest,” Asahi murmurs above him once he recovers from the initial shock, his breath warm against Noya’s ear as he tentatively reciprocates the hug. They remain that way for a few minutes, Noya unwilling to let go just yet as he listens to Asahi’s heartbeat in settling relief. Steady, but drumming just as quickly as his.

“Come over for dinner tomorrow,” Noya says, chancing the invitation now that the hard part is out of the way. “You owe me.”

Asahi chuckles, tightens his arms around him. It dawns on Noya just how much he’s missed the sound. Low, a little hoarse, sending tiny vibrations through Asahi’s chest. 

“I guess do,” Asahi agrees and Noya feels him nod. Then before Noya can react, something warm and lightly chapped brushes against his right cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Nishinoya.”

Quickly releasing Noya and leaving him standing there gaping like an idiot, Asahi enters his house, but not before he gives him one of those grins: quiet, sheepish, painfully hesitant. 

And Noya, with blush-warmed cheeks, wonders what it would have been like had he turned his face a fraction to the right at the very last second. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are awesome. Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> -H


	7. The One With the Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noya's mother gets a phone call that sets off a chain of events while Noya realizes that one person can't always carry the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I keep saying I'm gonna keep a handle on my word counts, but wellp... this happened. haha There are a couple of panic attack scenes in here, one mild and one full blown, and a fight scene with blood. Just a heads up for anyone who's triggered by that. Other than that, hope you guys enjoy my behemoth update and happy reading! :D
> 
> Special thanks to [**MTrash (Makaria)**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Makaria/works) for the extra pair of eyes and all the screaming encouragement. ♥

“Are ya gonna be ready before I graduate, Noya? You know Chikara’s gonna make us run extra laps if we don’t make it on time for at least one of the practices this week.”

Noya toes the bathroom door open, fingers sticky with the new wax he’s still trying to get used to. “Ya know that’s partially ‘cause you still haven’t talked to him, right?”

Tanaka rolls his eyes and flips him off. “Didn’t say there was a time limit on when I was gonna do the thing. Just that I was gonna do it. Probably. At some point.”

“Pansy.”

“Loser.” Tanaka’s voice catches at the tail-end and he snorts. “All right, I can’t call ya that with a straight face ‘cause you’re actually pretty fucking cool. ‘Specially since you went all confrontational with Asahi.”

“Did you just call your face ‘straight’? ‘Cause I could’ve sworn that was you gettin’ cheeseball gross last night with how hot Chikara’s calves actually are-- ow! Watch the hair, asshat!”

Tanaka snickers and flicks the small towel at Noya again. “One of these days, you’re gonna wake up to find me goin’ to town on that perfect coif with clippers and then you’ll remember this day.”

“You mean the day you died? Touch my hair and rest in fucking pieces, bro.” Noya combs his fingers through his bangs and turns to Tanaka with a triumphant grin. “Do I look awesome or do I look awesome?!”

“Worth the twenty minutes I had to wait for your ass to get ready,” Tanaka says as he drags Noya downstairs. “Seriously, man. Who the hell spends twenty minutes on their hair?!”

“We can’t all be hot bald guys, Ryuu.”

Tanaka flushes to the tips of his ears. “Yamaguchi said it ONE TIME! Let it go.”

“And miss that reaction?! No way! ‘Sides, I’m only tellin’ the truth, lemon drop.”

From Noya’s peripheral, he spots Tanaka’s getting on this side of involuntary lip wobbling. “Gettin’ weirdly emotional, jelly bean. Turnin’ into a sobbin’ mess before morning practice - not really on the agenda.”

“Right, totally. Got a reputation to maintain, Chikara to silently pine over.” Noya busts out laughing before he zooms down the stairs, deftly avoiding the leg trip Tanaka tries to pull as he scrambles after him. 

Noya’s mother is on the phone when they reach the kitchen, all elbows and knees and loud, obnoxious laughter as they continue to try and take each other down. She holds up a finger and silently gestures to the food laid out on the table, indicating they should help themselves. The laughter dies down and Noya can’t help but notice the slight press of her lips, the worry in her eyes. 

His stomach knots. 

Elbowing Tanaka one last time, he pours himself a glass of juice and grabs one of the rice balls off the display. Tanaka follows suit and pulls up a chair next to him, nodding toward Noya’s mother’s back with raised eyebrows. His eyes widen pointedly to which Noya only shrugs, pensively biting into his food. 

He’s busy trying to hear the murmured phone conversation that it isn’t until Tanaka kicks him under the table that he turns toward him, blinking in confusion. “What?”

“So, I wasn’t gonna bring it up since I figured you needed time to process or whatever, but,” Tanaka begins before he pauses and scratches his cheek, “what’s up with you ‘n’ Asahi now? Got your mid-mid-life crisis all handled?”

“Nothin’s up. Hangin’ out like usual,” Noya says absently, perking his ear toward his mother in a way that he hopes isn’t too obvious. 

“But he kissed you.”

“On the cheek. More like a ‘thank you’ than ‘I wanna get in your pants’. And anyway, nothin’s happened since then. I think he was just relieved that I wasn’t mad at ‘im. Though, if I gotta be honest, I’m pretty sure I was more relieved than he was.”

“Well, yeah. You got all... weird. I dunno how to explain it. Had me worried for a sec.”

Noya tugs his bangs mid-chew, forces a swallow, and grins. “Don’t be! I always bounce back, don’t I?”

“Like a rubber band.” Tanaka laughs. He polishes off what remains of his rice ball and chases it with the rest of his juice. “Can’t believe you two, though. Stuck in dating purgatory.”

With a snort, Noya tilts his head. “You wanna be the pot or the kettle this time?”

It isn’t the first time Noya has seen Tanaka go from zero to flaming tomato in a matter of seconds, but the sight is still enough to get him chortling at the reaction. “Shut up, dipshit. And anyway, you and Asahi act like you’re dating half the time. Chikara and I were just--” He sucks in a breath and rubs the top of his head. Lays his cheek down on the table and puffs out a sigh. It’s as endearing to see as it is mildly disconcerting. “We weren’t like that.”

“You never gave ‘im the chance.”

“It’s been, what? Three months? Pretty sure that ship’s sailed.”

“How do you know? You’re still pinin’ over him. I bet my next allowance he is, too.”

“I guess you’re r--”

Just then, his mother clicks off the phone with an audible sigh and leans against the counter. Head bowed. Shoulders slumped. Noya’s insides start jumping around like Hinata on a caffeine kick and abruptly, he stands. 

“Mom, are you--”

She turns toward them, mouth stretched wide in a bright smile. Too bright, much too bright. “Shouldn’t you boys be getting to school? Ennoshita-kun is probably expecting you already and I’m too young to bury my son if you kick the bucket from excessive volleyball practice.”

“Right, school, practice,” Noya says, enunciating the words as they sink in. He blinks. Something about his mother’s expression tells him that saying anything in front of Tanaka isn’t going to get him any answers regarding her odd behavior. “Where’s Takeshi?”

She sets the phone down, but not before Noya notices the tremble of her fingers, the way she clenches them before pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Sadashi offered to take him to his friend’s house so they can walk to school together. She had an early class anyway.”

“Oh good, I was startin’ to wonder if she still lived here,” Noya says with a laugh, hoping to lighten the atmosphere, but notably failing as his mother stares into her cup a little longer than necessary before she takes a tentative sip. He nudges Tanaka and motions toward the door with a dip of his head. “I’m gonna help her clean up. Meet ya outside?”

Tanaka, because of their conjoined brainwaves or maybe because the settling tension in the room suddenly feels suffocating, takes the cue without argument. “Thanks for breakfast,” he tells Noya’s mother before giving her a quick hug on his way out the door. 

Once he’s out of earshot, Noya clears the empty plates off the table and sets them in the sink. His mother still has the coffee cup in her hands, the liquid steaming and sloshing a little when she jolts at his touch. Noya squeezes her shoulder, willing himself to keep from getting worked up at whoever she was talking to on the phone. At least until he knows what’s going on. 

“You okay, mama?”

“He’s a sweet boy,” she absently murmurs with a glance at the door. “You’re both such sweet boys.” She sags a bit beneath his grip, knows she can’t hide it from him. He hasn’t called her “mama” since his father--

“That was the lawyer,” she says, and this time, she turns to face him, her smile dim and slightly apologetic. “They told me there’s a parole hearing coming up. There might be a chance he’ll be released.”

Noya catches her cup before it shatters on the floor.

* * *

 

“You’ve barely said a word since we left your house,” Tanaka says during their warm-up run, breaths huffing out between every other word. “Never seen your mom that way before. Everything good?”

“Yep, good,” Noya breathes out mid-stride, his fists clenching automatically from the memory of his mindfuck-inducing conversation earlier that morning. “All good. Everything’s good. Nothin’ to worry about.” 

* * *

 

All morning long, Noya puts just as much effort into concentrating as he does into actual practice. But even with his attempts to focus, his conscious decision to shunt away the nagging feeling that’s putting him severely on edge, the way his body moves and reacts to the varying drills aren’t enough to deter criticism from both Ennoshita and Ukai. 

“Nishinoya! Get your head out of your ass! You should’ve been able to get that receive, easy!” Ukai barks from his place up on the wooden table serving as his spiking podium. “What’s with you today?!”

He barely flinches, keeping his eyes on the ball and waiting for it to come barreling at him again. “Sorry, Coach! I’ll get the next one!”

“Just concentrate, Nishinoya!” Ennoshita says, clapping his hands together behind Noya, his encouragement joined in by a few of the others waiting their turn to receive. “Don’t mind! Don’t mind!”

Wiping the sweat beading at his brow with the collar of his shirt, Noya shifts his eyes back to the ball and sucks in a breath as Ukai aims it directly toward him. Something invades his head space then, like a heartbeat pulsing, a wave of energy or something equally polarizing, and an image resurfaces in that split second, causing his step to falter backward. 

The breath he’s been holding rushes out as the ball slams into his sternum and ricochets up into his chin when he doubles over from the initial impact. It’s a second before he realizes what’s happened, his brain doing some weird playback of the incident and forcing him to take a knee. He groans, cradles his face in his palms, and plants a hand on the floor to steady himself. The gym is definitely doing a tilting, spinning thing it hadn’t been doing moments before. A bout of nausea hits him, makes him a little woozy, a little disoriented. 

Maybe more than a little. 

“Ugh... _shit_...”

“Noya! Are you okay?!”

“Nishinoya-senpai!”

“Nishinoya, what happened?!”

All around him, the voices continue chattering and yelling out things he barely comprehends while he shakes his head to get rid of the white spots dancing behind his eyelids. His supporting arm trembles, wobbles just enough that Tanaka catches his shoulder to keep him from toppling over. 

Air in. 

Air out. 

Repeat.

He wills his body and brain to pull together some kind of half-assed synchronization, forces his foot to plant firmly on the floor and push himself up. 

Bracing himself for the tirade, Noya sucks in a breath and winces as he straightens to full height. With a pained grimace, he opens his mouth to apologize. “I--”

“Walk it off, Nishinoya,” Ennoshita says, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re done for now. Tanaka, can you help him to the club room?”

“Yeah, sure--”

Noya shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. You guys finish up. Pretty sure I’m capable of haulin’ ass to get changed.” When Ennoshita still remains unconvinced, he adds, “it’s not that far and I swear I’m okay. No concussion or broken anythings.”

“If you’re sure...” Ennoshita trails off, eyebrows creased. 

“Totally sure! I’ll be good as new for afternoon practice!” Noya assures him, puffing his chest out, thankful he’s managed to keep the wincing to an acceptable minimum. Tanaka tries to help him again, but he shrugs off the extra hand. Probably more aggressively than necessary. “I’m good. Finish up here.”

“Wait for me,” Tanaka says, keeping his eyes on Noya. There’s a flash of worry there and it doesn’t take much for Noya to see that it’s got nothing to do with his physical capabilities than it does with his mental brain fart. “I mean it, asshat. Don’t go anywhere ‘til I get there.”

“Yeah, sure, mom,” Noya says, keeping the grin in place and waving jovially to the rest of the team who look like they’re about to have massive coronaries at any given moment. 

At least until he gets outside.

Then he grips his arms, folds in on himself, and starts running. The facade breaks. Crumbles just enough that he allows himself to entertain the memories that flood back and paint his thoughts black and blue. 

* * *

 

Noya’s shoes squeak on the tile floors as he rounds the corner, narrowly missing a pair of girls hurrying past. He’d managed to ditch Tanaka at the last minute; explanations aren’t really his forte and his head is already swimming with its own crap that bringing someone else into the mess would require more effort than he’s willing to expend. Even if it’s for Tanaka and his synchronized brainwaves. 

Classes are about to start and with all the trouble he’s already gotten into that morning, he would rather not add to the list by calling attention to himself should he fail to make it on time. But he skids to a stop anyway when he hears Asahi’s name just before he passes by the main stairwell, ears perking and curiosity getting the better of him. His breath hitches, the sound barely audible, when he hears his name in the same beat. He strains to listen, pressed against the wall out of sight.

“Yeah, I remember him! Big guy? Long hair, goatee, right?”

“That’s him. He’s been coming around a lot lately. I thought he graduated.”

Noya recognizes the second voice as one of the guys he’s borrowed math notes from a few times and his nape prickles, irritation spiking. Irrational, considering he doesn’t know the context of the conversation. But he’s already heated enough as it is and any fucks he has to give about anything remotely out of place makes him want to introduce his fist into something.

“Maybe he got held back again? Heard a rumor he was in his fifth year last year. What’s one more, right?”

Or _someone_ , considering where this conversation is heading. 

“Nah, man. I don’t think that’s it. I’ve seen him hanging around Nishinoya all close and if it were me, I’d be real uncomfortable. I kinda feel bad for him having to put up with it. Maybe Azumane’s got a thing for guys. Creepy, if you ask me.”

Noya’s jaw clenches. 

“No way! You mean he’s,” and the first voice drops to whisper, “gay?”

“Sure looks like it from where I’m standing.”

“I don’t think Nishinoya would put up with that. But you’re right, that’s fucked up. What if he tries something with him? The guy’s pretty big and Nishinoya’s, well, you’ve seen him.”

“Maybe we should tell someone. Nishinoya would probably thank us if some faggot--”

And that did it. 

Noya isn’t sure how he’d gotten to the top of the stairwell or when exactly it is that his fist drove into the guy’s face like a wrecking ball intent on demolishing everything in its wake. But one second, he’s pressed up against the wall, nails digging angry crescents into his palms, and the next, he’s on the guy, all restraint out the window. 

The first sound of bone hitting bone is the most satisfying. He barely registers the groan of the guy pinned beneath him, doesn’t pay attention to the arms trying to pull him back. Even the sucker punch to the side of the head isn’t enough to deter him because how _dare_ these assholes talk about Asahi like they know him?

_Crack._

How dare they call him things that sound wrong, ignorant, so unbearably close to what his father used to-- 

_Crack._

Asahi wasn’t-- isn’t-- because if he was, if he is... 

_Crack._

...it means Noya is, too.

And the thought brings about a wave of nausea he shoves back in favor of the fury lighting his nerve endings on fire, crackling through him like an electric charge. 

His fist comes down again and again, the sound of his voice hoarse and desperate and furious. “Take it back! Take back what you said! He’s not a fucking f--”

“NOYA!”

There are arms around him, wound so tight even through his struggle to break free and keep going, keep inflicting pain enough to rival the one trying to claw out of him. 

“Lemme go!”

“Noya, calm the fuck down! He’s done!” Noya’s arm slips out and in the next second, his elbow makes contact with whoever it is that’s trying to intervene. “-- _ugh_ fuck!” 

The arms around him loosen and whoever had held him back releases him and steps away, the weight pressed against him disappearing in an instant. When he turns, he finds Tanaka standing there, holding the bridge of his nose, blood dribbling down and catching on his upper lip. 

His eyes widen in horror and it finally sinks in, what he’s done. Breaths erratic and hands clenched at his sides, he forces a swallow while his brain tries to catch up with the monumental fuck up he’s just been pulled from.

“Shit, Ryuu, I’m sorry-- I...”

His eyes flicker from Tanaka to the unmoving heap on the floor and he staggers back, now aware that he’s done something he can’t take back. Heat prickles behind his lids and he presses his lips together to hold it in, to force it away. With a last, desperate glance at Tanaka, he stumbles down the steps, intent on getting away, on putting as much distance between him and whatever the hell just happened. But before he can get anywhere near the exit, the dean comes out of his office, strides quick and expression stern. 

“Nishinoya-kun. My office. _Now_.”

* * *

 

**Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: heard about what happened in the deans office  
[text]: u ok?

**Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: did the nurse get a look at u  
[text]: u were bleedin when i saw u last

**Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: answer ur phone bro  
[text]: been tryin to get a hold of u all day  
[text]: everyone at practice was worried  
[text]: told em ud be fine  
[text]: chikara said dont worry bout the team n no one blames u

**Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: bro  
[text]: brooooooo  
[text]: sunflower  
[text]: jelly bean  
[text]: sunbeam  
[text]: precious flower

**Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: noya  
[text]: goin to bed but if u wanna talk call me  
[text]: dont care what time  
[text]: gettin worried   
[text]: i know i shouldnt have to say it again but no one blames u  
[text]: night bro

* * *

 

**Received From: cap’n**  
[text]: it’s weird not having you around, but everyone hopes you’re okay.  
[text]: hinata wanted to send you something but I figured you might want to be by yourself for a while.  
[text]: tanaka’s worried about you though.  
[text]: maybe you should text him to let him know you’re okay.  
[text]: it’s not your fault. just wanted to let you know we all think so. 

* * *

 

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: Tanaka told me what happened  
[text]: I tried to call but you weren’t picking up  
[text]: I just want to make sure you’re okay  
[text]: call me when you can?

* * *

 

**Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: its been 3 days  
[text]: at least let me know ur still alive  
[text]: if u dont text me back someones gonna break down ur door lookin for u js

* * *

 

It’s four days after the incident that Noya finally rummages through the pile of clothes in the corner of his room, intent on finding the phone he’d absentmindedly left in his discarded uniform. He can barely remember anything when he’d gotten home that day, save for the conversation he’d had with his mother regarding the suspension from school and the ban from club activities. 

It was like first year all over again. Asahi had been the reason behind it then, too. Except this time, it’s not Asahi he’s angry at, not Asahi that makes him want to kick something and yell into the void out of frustration. Being pissed off at someone has the advantage of redirecting the anger, of having an outlet to take it out on, to alleviate it in some way or another. But being pissed off at himself -- it’s infinitely worse. Because at the end of the day, there’s no one to blame for his actions, no one to point fingers at except the one person whose company he can’t hide from. 

Sprawling out on the futon, pillow wedged underneath his chin, he rifles through the barrage of messages and tugs on his bangs, feels the strands tickle the tip of his nose while he figures out how long he wants to stay in his self-imposed exile. While he appreciates the sentiments, he knows they’re a lie. Knows it’s his fault, that his actions affect not only what happens to him, but to the team as a whole. 

And he doesn’t know if he can forgive himself for that.

The knock at his door startles him.

He debates pretending to be asleep because he’s not sure he can take any more of his mother’s guilty hovering about the reason he lost his shit in the first place. But the voice that calls out is deeper, gruffer, hesitant. 

Definitely not his mother.

“Nishinoya? Your mom said I can come up, but I wasn’t sure if I should just, um--” There is a pause and Noya imagines Asahi’s expression, imagines the crease between his eyebrows, the firm line of his mouth. All complete with the neck clamping and embarrassed grimace. “I can come back if you’d still rather be by yourself.”

Noya plants his face into the pillow and exhales sharply before he lifts his head to call out, “door’s open!”

He cringes at the crack in his voice, the exhaustion tingeing the edges and lacing it with some sort of self-pity-party-arsenic he can’t stuff away in some imaginary box even with the monumental amount of effort he’s putting in. 

When Asahi manages the door open, he looks a little worse for wear. Dark circles rim beneath his eyes and there’s a sallow tint to his pallor that Noya is no stranger to. It’s weird seeing him that way. Perplexing. Makes the knot in his gut exponentially bigger because one other thing he doesn’t need is being the unnecessary cause for Asahi’s anxiety. 

“How are you?” Instantly, Asahi flinches, as though hearing the words out loud has him come to the conclusion about how generic and institutional they sound. Like something someone would ask a person they barely know or something that fills an awkward silence because of the obvious answer. “Sorry, that, um, came out wrong. Stupid question. I know you feel like shit. I just--”

Quietly grunting as he shifts over on the futon, Noya tilts his head and motions for Asahi to take a seat. The sigh of relief is subtle but audible as Asahi takes the cue, the futon dipping where he deposits himself next to Noya.

“I do,” Noya says, cheek pressed against the pillow. “Feel like shit, I mean. I fucked up. Wouldn’t you feel like shit?” He pauses, remembers who he’s talking to and a laugh comes out of nowhere; dry, humorless. Hollow. “Pretty sure that’s a rhetorical question. You usually feel like shit about a lot of things.”

“I--” Asahi exhales sharply and braces his forearms against his knees. He fidgets with his fingers and instantly, Noya feels the guilt churn in his gut at the scathing commentary. “You wanna talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about? I broke the guy’s nose. Suspended. Banned from club. Case closed.” The words come out sharper than he intends, but there’s so much anger, so much disappointment he has yet to process that it’s hard to keep it bottled up, to restrain himself. 

“You’re usually pretty easy about that kind of stuff. People like you, look up to you. The last time you got angry enough to lash out that way--”

“Does it matter why?”

Asahi glances at him sidelong, his gaze trained on the bruises along Noya’s knuckles. He forces a swallow. “It had to have been something important, so yeah. I suppose it does.”

“You don’t know what they were sayin’,” he mumbles, tucks his hands underneath the pillow, fingers curling and digging crescents into his palms. 

It’s strange, he thinks, how long it’s been since he’s felt ashamed about any of his bruises. How long since he’s stopped looking at them as anything but something to be proud of. A part of him knows he should feel pride for the reason behind the ones that dot his knuckles now. That he’d stood up for something, for someone important to him. 

But when it dawns on him the consequences of what he’s done, it’s difficult to feel anything but the weird empty sensation currently trying to carve a hole through his chest. And forcing himself to relive it, to face it head on brings back some of that nausea he hasn’t missed. 

“Then _tell me_. You shutting everyone out isn’t helping anyone.”

Asahi’s advice makes something in him snap something fierce. As if he needs a reminder that he’s now useless to the team. That he’s failed to have their backs.

“I’m not helpin’ anyone anyway!”

He pushes himself up and slides off the futon, his footing a little wobbly from the force of the action. Asahi reaches out, but he shrugs off the attempt. 

“It’s just volleyball, Nishinoya. The others -- they’re worried about you. _I’m_ worried about you. It’s not like you to self-destruct over something like this.” Of all the things Asahi could have said, this is the last thing Noya expects. Especially from someone who had once self-destructed in much the same way, who had nearly brought Noya down with him. Asahi stands and meets Noya’s gaze, concern etched in every crevice of the expression he wears. “Tanaka says you won’t talk to anyone. Not even him. He thought maybe I could help, that maybe you’d talk to me because I know exactly how you feel.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t fucking look at me like that!” Noya surges, different in the way he usually barrels at Asahi. A flash of memory hits him then. Asahi yelling at him, breaths as heated at the words he’d snarled out, blaming himself.  
  
Yelling.  
  
All the yelling.  
  
Teeth bared and guttural. Kind of like how he feels now. Anger wells up inside him, makes it hard to think, to concentrate, to find his focus point and keep himself in check. He grabs Asahi by the lapels of his jacket and yanks hard before throwing all his weight into shoving Asahi back, his grip like iron. Asahi nearly topples back onto the futon, barely managing to keep his balance. “You don’t get to stand there and tell me you know how it feels! That it’s just volleyball! It’s _not. just. volleyball_! Not to me!”  
  
His throat burns, raw from whatever’s been buried deep resurfacing like some rotting corpse furious at being stifled, forgotten. He tightens his grip, knuckle-white and desperate, before he lets Asahi go. There’s so much white noise in his head, filling his chest until it expands to accommodate everything he feels, everything he’s trying to process.  
  
Air in.  
  
Air out.

Repeat.  
  
He needs to breathe. Needs to force the air back into his lungs before he drives himself over a wall he can’t climb back from.   
  
Noya clenches his fists and takes a step back. And then another. And another. A small twinge begins in his chest and no matter how hard he tries to focus, to get his lungs to start acting like lungs and push air through without leaving a smoldering hole somewhere inside his chest cavity, nothing works. His breaths start fast, puffing in and out like an engine sputtering, and it’s all he can do to keep himself upright. He grasps his shirtfront and glares at Asahi, frustrated and wanting to do something, _anything_ to alleviate it, to make it go away.  
  
“You don’t get it. No one does. I can’t protect them, get their backs when it matters most. I’m just usele-- you know what? Doesn’t matter,” he says, his voice reedy and hoarse. “Leave. I… I need you to leave.”  
  
“Nishinoya--”  
  
“Go! Just,” he wheezes, his fingers bunching the thin cotton of his t-shirt so tightly he feels the sting, “just go, Asahi.”

When it seems clear that Noya isn’t going to change his mind, Asahi nods, the gesture distinctly mournful, and lets himself out without another word. Noya shuffles over to the door, strains his ears to hear the soft pad of footfalls going down the stairs. Then he hears his mother’s voice, hears the worry there, and Asahi’s response, echoing the sentiment.

“I take it that didn’t go well?”

“Not exactly...” Asahi chuckles, but the sound is pinched. Mirthless. 

“Give him some time, Azumane-kun. It hasn’t always been easy for him and--” She pauses and for a moment, Noya shuts his eyes, silently praying she doesn’t tell him anything that, as far as he’s concerned, is really none of Asahi’s business. “--he’s always processed things differently. Keeps all the important things bottled in. I think he spends so much effort trying to convince people that nothing bothers him, so when it comes time to deal with it, he doesn’t know how.”

There’s a lull in their conversation, a weighted minute that hangs in the air. When Asahi speaks again, Noya releases a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Did something... happen? To make him that way? I’m just-- I didn’t know what to do, but I couldn’t not do _anything_.” He sighs and Noya hears the frustration there. The helplessness. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”

“I’m glad you did. I think he’s glad, too, even if it doesn’t seem that way right now. He needs people like that around. Ones who care about him enough to show up when he’s busy shutting out the world.”

“But he doesn’t do that. Not the Nishinoya I know. Or I thought I knew, I guess.”

“He’s still the same Yuu. But you know, sometimes he tries so hard to protect everyone else around him that he doesn’t realize it’s okay to be the one that needs protecting for once. That it’s okay to let other people take care of him.” She pauses and Noya hears the creak of the front door. “Give him time and he’ll come around. You’re important to him. I can see that much, at least. He looks up to you; probably more than you can imagine. He sees something there worth putting himself on the line for and he doesn’t do that lightly. Not if he doesn’t mean it. If I know my boy, he doesn’t let go of that as easily as you might think.”

“You’re a really cool mom, you know that? I can see where he gets it from.” Asahi laughs, some of the warmth in the coarse baritone returning. “Thanks for letting me see him.”

“It was no trouble at all. Thank _you_ for coming.” Noya’s mother reciprocates the laughter, her amusement at Asahi’s parting comment unmistakable. “Apples don’t fall far from the tree, Azumane-kun. But the compliment is absolutely appreciated. Have a safe trip home, okay? You’re welcome to drop by again any time.”

When he hears the door shut and his mother’s footsteps retreat into the kitchen, Noya quietly steals back into his room. He eases the door closed, breaths coming quicker as something warm wets his cheeks, leaks salt into his mouth. And then he sinks to his knees, gives in to the sensation, and unravels in a way he would never let anyone see.

* * *

 

“Take a deep breath. This should be over in a sec.”

Noya does as he’s told, though from what he’s read online, getting his ears pierced isn’t exactly the pinnacle of pain and torture. His sister, Sadashi, stands next to him, watching the technician work and nodding her head in approval when his new studs are inserted. 

“Pretty cool, little bro. I’m gonna have to beat the girls away with a stick when they get a look at the new jewelry.” She gives him a pat on the back to indicate he was through before forking over the cash to pay for his spontaneous modification. “Are you still set on doing the hair?”

Noya doesn’t doesn’t hesitate, grin wide and enthusiastic. “Yep! Change is good. I definitely need it after the month I’ve had.”

“C’mon then. If we hurry, we can experiment with how bright you wanna go before you give everyone a coronary at school tomorrow,” she says with a laugh, playing with the tips of his spikes as they head out of the shop.

***

When Sadashi finishes with him a few hours later, he digs underneath the pile of laundry next to his futon and unearths one of the new sketchpads he’d bought himself at the start of his temporary sabbatical. Its edges are stained with charcoal and fingerprint smudges are scattered randomly on the front cover. He opens it to the most recent portrait, mouth quirking in a sad smile. 

A familiar face stares back at him, the details in the eyes a little more pronounced than usual, the slope of the nose and angle of the jaw shaped with more care than he’s paid to any of his other pieces. 

He sighs, fingertips tracing over the lines and smudging them. Then with new resolve, he hunches over, the sorry pouch he keeps his meager art supplies in open as he gets to work. 

* * *

 

“Bro, I think these are tears.”

Tanaka’s reaction has Noya throwing his head back in true peacock-style, grin wide and hands anchored at his hips. Like the rest of the team, Tanaka had respected his request for some downtime and though they still occasionally saw each other during breaks, it hadn’t been the same. 

But today, today is different. 

Having the club ban lifted has considerably lightened Noya’s mood. The piercings and bright red bangs might also be contributing factors, but in any case, he’d sought out Tanaka’s company during lunch break and the effort practically reduces Tanaka to a babbling mess about how he’s glad Noya seems to have pulled himself out of his self-imposed exile.

“Pretty cool, right? Sadashi took me to get ‘em done yesterday,” Noya says, ducking away with a laugh when Tanaka refuses to stop staring at his earlobes with nothing short of awe. “Thought I needed a change.”

“Your cool factor just went up in exponential levels, precious flower. I dunno if I’m awesome enough to be in your presence now.” Tanaka nods reverently, looking a little too much like a Bodhisattva statue to be taken in any serious context. After a minute, he snorts and slaps a hand on Noya’s shoulder and squeezes. “Really glad to have ya back, man.”

“Good to be back.” Noya elbows him in the ribs, cheeky grin in place. “You’re not actually gonna cry, are ya? What happened to keepin’ your reputation for the girls?”

Tanaka winces as he rubs his side. “Pretty damn close, but whatever. My best bro’s back!” he exclaims triumphantly, like he’s just won a stuffed animal from one of those stupid mechanical arm machines at the strip mall Noya has never mastered. “’Sides, I’m not interested in any of ‘em anyway. What do I care?”

“Oh shit. I never knew this day would come.” Noya clutches the front of his uniform in mock surprise. Throws in an exaggerated lip wobble for emphasis. “Ryuu? Not interested in girls? Is there a full moon tonight? Has the apocalypse been announced? ‘Cause seriously, who are you and what’ve you done with my best friend?”

With his hand at his nape, Tanaka turns away, but not before Noya catches the unmistakable flush. “Shut up, asshole.”

“Should I start my rendition of ‘It’s Raining Men’ or?”

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.” Tanaka chuckles and attempts to take a swipe at Noya’s gravity-defying spikes. “That’s what you get for puttin’ yourself in a hole. You miss all the good shit!”

“Yeah? Does that mean you finally grew an industrial pair and talked to Chikara?”

The bell rings, signaling the end of their break and giving Tanaka the opportunity to dodge what could potentially be some tabloid-worthy details as he hurries off to class with a wave. “Don’t be late to practice, jelly bean! Just ‘cause you slacked off for a month doesn’t mean Chikara’s gonna go easy on ya!”

“Way to avoid the question, lemon drop!” Noya calls after him, laughing as he hefts his book bag over his shoulder and follows suit. 

* * *

 

His return on the court later that afternoon is exactly how he imagined. Even with the guilt from the ban still working a number on his conscience as a whole, everything seems to fall right into place as soon as he steps back onto the familiar polished wood. 

“Nishinoya!” Ennoshita calls out, motioning for him to come over. He points to Noya’s ear and takes out a small clear baggie filled with various-sized plastic inserts from his shorts pocket. “These might come in handy. If a ball hits you by accident, they’ll hurt less than the studs.”

“You always carry these around?” Noya asks with a laugh. He gladly replaces the jewelry with the plastic substitutes, grimacing at the few tries it takes to get them in. Then he nudges Ennoshita, eyebrows waggling. “So, I heard you got a few yourself.”

Ennoshita snorts and rolls his eyes. “Something I’m sure Tanaka’s over-exaggerated,” he says, pointing to his earlobes. “Same as yours. Nothing ‘tabloid-worthy’.”

At the mention of the term, Noya blanches and scratches his cheek. “You and your supersonic hearing, I swear, Chikara.”

“Have you heard your conversations with Tanaka? I’m pretty sure supersonic hearing isn’t a requirement.” He chuckles and it’s then Noya catches sight of something silver, something definitely, undoubtedly “tabloid worthy”.

“Chikara,” Noya says, the last syllable drawing out as he teasingly smirks. “You’re holdin’ out on me.” 

Ennoshita’s eyes widen when he realizes what Noya is talking about and he looks around before dropping his voice, pleading. “Okay, fine. There’s a tongue ring. But please don’t say anything to the others. Narita thought it’d be hilarious and it’s really more a pain in the ass than anything.”

Noya waggles his brows and clicks his tongue. “Lucky Ryuu...” 

“I’m going to make you do extra block follows if you keep that up. Try me,” he says, the threat halfhearted as he flushes to the tips of his ears. He claps Noya on the shoulder just as Ukai blows his whistle to signal the start of practice. “It’s really good to have you back, Nishinoya. Even if you _are_ a perpetual shit. Try not to let any of the balls kill you this time, huh?”

“You sound just like Daichi,” Noya says with an exaggerated lip wobble, hand clutching his shirtfront. “If he could only see you now.”

He ducks out just in time to avoid a smack to the back of the head, laughing freely, genuinely in a way he hasn’t done in a long while.

* * *

 

“If ya got somethin’ to say, spit it out already.”

“I’m doin’ the study questions,” Tanaka attempts to counter, deflecting the highlighter Noya chucks at his head. “But if there was somethin’ you wanna talk about...”

“You might wanna take a refresher course in Subtlety 101.” With a grunt, Noya pushes off his futon and sits cross-legged, back against the wall. “It’s been almost month, Ryuu.”

“Okay, ‘cause that’s not vague.”

“Aren’t ya supposed to have those Siamese bro-waves or whatever?” When Tanaka continues to stare at him like he’s suddenly grown a third head, Noya whacks him with a pillow and makes a frustrated noise. “ _Asahi_. I haven’t talked to him since he showed up at my place after the fight.”

“I thought you kicked ‘im out?”

“Well, yeah, but--” Noya bites the inside of his cheek, bangs his head against the wall with a dull thud. He closes his eyes and exhales, slow and calming, before he directs his gaze at Tanaka again. “He probably never wants to talk to me again.”

“That bad?”

“I yelled.” Bowing forward, Noya splays his arms out in front of him and sighs. “I yelled _a lot_. Brought up some old shit I probably shouldn’t’ve.” The frustrated noise makes a spectacular comeback. “I’m such an idiot.”

“So apologize.”

Noya rubs his cheek on the futon’s surface. “Says the one who took four months to grow a pair and finally talk to Chikara.”

“Who said I talked to Chikara?”

“So you’re sayin’ your balls haven’t gone through an industrial change.”

This time, it’s Noya’s turn to get assaulted with the pillow, his indignant response muffled by the mouthful of futon. 

“Don’t be a dick.”

“An industrial dick. To go with your industrial balls.”

“Why am I even friends with you?”

“’Cause I’m the most awesome guy in the history of ever?”

“Okay, yeah, but besides that,” Tanaka says with a fond rumple of Noya’s ruined coif. “I think you wanna talk to him. I think he wants to talk to you, except he doesn’t know how to get to that point yet. Don’t really blame him, though. You’re kinda scary when you’re ragin’.”

“I--” It’s difficult to come back with anything considering how right Tanaka is. Containing himself when he’s in angry is never something he thinks about, but now he has consequences. Consequences that make his chest feel hollow, makes him want to puke right there on the futon. He shuts his eyes and exhales. “I don’t mean to be. It’s like a switch, y’know? It flips and everything’s a fucking blur and by the time I’m through, it’s too late. Damage done. I never really gave a shit about the ‘after’ ‘til now.”

“Don’t matter what happened before. You give a shit _now_. That says somethin’.”

“But what if it’s too late? I fucked up. I pushed him away and whatever the hell was goin’ on with us is probably effectively dead.”

“Maybe not. You can explain about your da--”

“No. No fucking way!” Noya’s fingers curl into his palms, clench with force enough to whiten his knuckles. He snorts. “Imagine him standin’ there lookin’ at me like I’m gonna break. Like I’m some pathetic whatever with daddy issues. The thing with my dad is irrelevant. Everything about that shitstorm asshole is irrelevant.”

“Except the reason you reacted the way you did, the way you _do_ is ‘cause of that shitstorm asshole.” Tanaka squeezes Noya’s shoulder. “Sounds pretty damn relevant to me.”

“You know that thing I said about your omniscient wisdom bein’ somethin’ to be admired when you’re all serious business?” Noya asks, lifting his face to rest his chin on the futon and blowing his bangs upward with an indignant purse of his lips. “I was wrong.” Tanaka mockingly gasps and Noya grumbles, “but I guess you’re right.”

“Look, I dunno what’s goin’ on with you guys on the relationship front. But what I do know is that you’re friends. I know he gives a shit about ya as much as you do about him. If it were me, I’d want an explanation, but I’d probably be too scared to ask for one considerin’ how worked up you get. And Asahi is a lot less likely to push you than I am.”

Redirecting his focus from the wall to Tanaka’s sympathetic gaze, Noya finally concedes. “ _Fine_. I’ll talk to him. But let it be known that I officially hate it when you’re right. It’s official. It should be amended in our bromance contract to acknowledge the change.”

“Done. So long as that gets you to clear the air. You got enough shit to deal with, sunbeam,” Tanaka says with a teasing flick of Noya’s earlobe. “This, you can do somethin’ about. So do it.”

Noya quirks a grin. “Really fucking glad you’re in my corner, moondrop.”

“What’d I tell ya about makin’ me weirdly emotional?!”

* * *

 

Later that night, Noya stares at his phone, anticipation churning in his gut. He’s been doing a lot of that lately, the phone staring. Like it would somehow help him get over his nerves, somehow send the texts without him having to actually grow a pair and do it. 

It could be worse. He could sit in a perpetual vat of “what ifs” and let that be that. Wallow in his own stupidity for a while and give himself a chance to get over whatever had been slowly building between him and Asahi. But even if part of him seems to lean toward that tempting option, the other part, the part yelling “coward” in his brain like some kind of kamikaze war cry - that part wins out as he clutches the phone in his hand and opens up the familiar chat window. 

Air in.

Air out.

Repeat. 

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: hey  
[text]: u busy?

It’s a few minutes of unbearable silence before he gets a response. 

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: Hey. :)  
[text]: No, not busy. How are you?

The texts seem so forced that Noya almost forgets the whole thing, almost sends back a reply telling Asahi he’s fine, he just wanted to say ‘hi’, maybe wish him a good rest of his night. But the pounding in his chest and the taunting cries in his brain are prompting him to take the other, more painful route. 

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: good i guess. better  
[text]: i kinda need to um  
[text]: explain  
[text]: about

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: You don’t need to do anything, Nishinoya.   
[text]: Really. I shouldn’t have come when you didn’t want to see anyone.  
[text]: I’m glad you’re doing better though.

Noya stares at the texts, the odd constricting sensation in his chest causing him to press his lips together as he types out a response. Determined. Resolved to grow a pair of his own industrial-strength balls and do what he needs to do.

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: that came out wrong  
[text]: i know i dont NEED to  
[text]: i want to  
[text]: explain i mean

His fingers hover the keyboard as he sucks in a breath, acutely aware of the way his heart is pounding behind his rib cage, how it roars in his ears like some sort of wave of doom beating to the sound of his death march or something equally as dramatic. 

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: do you maybe wanna idk  
[text]: come over tmrw after practice  
[text]: my moms working late and my brothers spendin the night at a friends house. sadashis prob gonna b gone too but i nvr know when she’s home anyway so  
[text]: figured we can um talk or w/e

There’s a lull in Asahi’s reply and the wait makes the anxiety that much worse. Noya braces himself for the brush off like the one after Asahi had quit volleyball, prepares for the possibility that he’d decline, walk away from Noya like he did the year before and not look back. 

Noya wouldn’t blame him if he did. He probably deserves it and the acceptance of the possibility makes him a little sick, has him tugging his bangs enough to faceplant into his pillow until he feels the vibration from his phone. 

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: On one condition  
[text]: You let me bring you food

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: im supposed to be apologizin n ur the one bringin me food  
[text]: wtf asahi

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: Instant ramen isn’t food and I know that’s what you’re going to be eating if your mom’s not home  
[text]: Just stop being a stubborn shit and let me take care of you for once

Blinking in shock, Noya stares at the last text and lets the words sink in. It chips away at the leaden weight making a home in his chest cavity and he laughs despite himself. 

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: cant believe u just called me a shit  
[text]: thats definitely my influence  
[text]: or chihayas  
[text]: either way fine its a deal  
[text]: text u when practice is done

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: Well you’re being one so I thought I’d point it out lol  
[text]: Sounds good though  
[text]: And Nishinoya?

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: ?

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: I’m really glad you texted :)  
[text]: G'night and see you tomorrow

Noya wonders if Asahi would feel the same way once tomorrow comes. With a sigh, he shoves the errant thought out of his head, instead choosing to stay in the moment as he bites his lip and grins. 

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: yeah me too  
[text]: night asahi sleep well

* * *

 

The next day goes by like someone had coated the clock hands with honey, each second slower than the last until the very last hour of practice when everything comes tumbling forward at the speed of light. Noya’s nerves at seeing Asahi again after so long makes his stomach do funny things; things that he usually only feels right before a really important match, a game-changer event of sorts and he’s so knotted by anticipation that he puts his pants on backwards when he’s changing in the club room. 

“You might wanna try again, precious flower,” Tanaka comments as he tugs his shirt on. When Noya gives him a blank stare, he drops his eyes to the puffy butt-end of Noya’s slacks and snorts. 

Noya follows his line of sight and nearly trips trying to get out of his clothes before correcting himself. “Where would I be without you, bro?” 

“Probably walkin’ around with your zipper wedged between your asscheeks.” Tanaka laughs and tosses him the upper portion of his uniform. “Don’t forget to unclasp the collar this time.”

When Noya is fully dressed, he hefts his bag on his shoulder as he and Tanaka start toward the station. They’re silent for a while, muscles still worn from practice and enjoying the cooling weather after being stuck inside the stifling gym for so long. They stop by Ukai’s store to pick up popsicles for Noya and snacks for Tanaka before continuing again, the pit stop enough to calm a little of Noya’s anticipation worries. 

It’s Noya who speaks up first as he worries the edge of his lip. The popsicle is long gone and having something in his stomach, however meager, had definitely been a good idea. “Is it weird that I’m nervous? We’ve hung out how many times and it shouldn’t be weird or whatever. But I’m seriously on the verge of payin’ my respects to the porcelain throne.”

“You gonna tell him then?”

“That’s the plan. He did seem really glad I texted last night, though,” Noya says, a grin working through the nervous jumping bean routine. He tugs his bangs, mostly to obscure a portion of his face so Tanaka wouldn’t sass him about the probability of his face resembling a ripened tomato. 

“Hate to say ‘I told ya so’, but,” Tanaka says with a cheeky grin he directs in full force as his elbow digs into Noya’s rib cage.

“I know, but that’s ‘cause he doesn’t know anyth--”

“Speak of the devil.” Tanaka nudges him again and nods toward the train platform. He slings a reassuring arm around Noya and licks his finger before he sticks it in Noya’s ear. “Don’t be nervous. You got this.”

“What the actual fuck, Ryuu! Did you really need to--” Noya’s indignant splutters are interrupted when Asahi stands as soon as he spots them coming. He wears a grin that puts Noya at ease and it’s then that he realizes just how much he’s missed the way Asahi’s mouth quirks the slightest bit. The hesitant way he sweeps the back of his neck and bows his head before the smile fully materializes. “Hey, you made it.”

“Yeah,” Asahi says, quietly chuckling as he holds up the bag filled with what Noya assumes is their dinner. “I brought enough, I think, if Tanaka’s coming with us?”

"Ah, nope! I was actually on my way somewhere else, but you kids enjoy yourselves,” Tanaka says with a wink and a dramatic salute that makes Noya want to take out his shins.

Some of the tension returns once Tanaka leaves and Noya gives a short, automatic tug of his bangs before he shoves his hands into his pockets. He opens his mouth to say something, anything that would hopefully lessen whatever vibe still lingers, but Asahi beats him to it.

“New hair and piercings, huh?” he starts with a small smile. “It suits you. Ups your ‘wild’ image a little more, I think.”

“Thanks for the compliment, I guess?” Noya says, a little uncertain if that’s what it’s supposed to be considering what suits him isn’t necessarily the same as “it looks good on you”. 

Asahi catches on and quickly attempts to revise his previous comment, hands rising up in mild defense. The bag of food swings at the motion. “That’s not what I meant! I mean, it is, but i-it... isn’t?” He breathes out a sigh, eyebrows creasing in embarrassment. “You look good. That’s what I, um, meant to say...”

It’s difficult not to find Asahi’s quirks endearing, the full compliment causing Noya’s cheeks to burst with warmth. “Thanks,” he mumbles, nudging Asahi’s arm as their train hisses to a stop. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

***

Dinner is unusually quiet.

Noya has anticipated the awkwardness beforehand, but to actually have to sit in it, to feel the weird sticky feeling in his throat like some sort of immobilizing goo coating his vocal chords - it brings back the uncomfortable weight in his chest. 

He reminds himself to breathe.

“You can go up to my room while I clean up, if ya want,” Noya offers, hoping to thin out some of the odd discomfort the silence brings while giving him a few minutes to collect his thoughts, map out exactly what he wants to say and how to say it. 

Asahi nods with smile and takes the cue without argument. When Noya hears the footfalls grow fainter, he bows his head over the kitchen sink, hands gripped at the edges and forces himself to get his shit together. 

It’s just Asahi.

They’re friends, at the very least. There’s nothing weird or uncomfortable about any of this and he has nothing to be ashamed of. 

Zero shame.

Total and complete confiden--

Oh, who was he kidding.

He exhales sharply and smacks his face with both hands. The sting immediately alleviates his nervousness and he now completely understands why Tanaka does the thing when he’s trying not to psych himself out during a match. He has the urge to text him to relay this revelation, but now is probably not the time considering there’s some serious explaining with a healthy dose of groveling he has to get to.

Taking the stairs two steps at a time, he shakes off his hands along with any remaining nerves. When he enters his bedroom, Asahi is sitting on the edge of the futon, forearms braced on his knees and expectant smile making Noya’s heartbeat momentarily stutter. 

“Okay, so,” he begins, cautiously lowering himself next to Asahi, “I don’t really know where to start.”

Asahi’s smile falters, eyebrows knit together in genuine concern. “Wherever you’re comfortable starting. I told you I didn’t need an explana--”

“I know you don’t need it, but I feel completely shitty about leavin’ things how they were so let me get this out, okay?”

Asahi concedes with a nod, but says nothing, expression unchanging. And so Noya continues.

“Stuff I said - I wasn’t thinkin’ and I didn’t mean it. Not really,” he manages, ignoring the lame execution. He toys with his thumbs, traces them along his knuckles while he sifts through everything in his head. “I know it was hard for you last year. Not just comin’ back, but gettin’ through that whole thing. And you did it all on your own, pulled through for the team. For me. You don’t get how relieved I was, how happy it made me when you came back. Like everything was how it used to be, how it always shoulda been.” He pauses, feels the sticky thickness in his throat again, the heated sting behind his eyelids as he turns toward him. “I’m really, really sorry, Asahi.”

“I know,” Asahi says, chuckles quietly as his eyes, gentle and kind, remain steady on Noya’s face. Like he’s taking in every minute change, every shift in expression. “You were angry. I could see that much. It’s easy to get carried away when you’re angry and I couldn’t hold that against you. Even if it stung.”

At the admission, Noya flinches as if struck, automatically shifts away an inch as the guilt returns and settles uncomfortably in his chest. He tries to swallow the lump forming in his throat. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Asahi must have noticed because he makes up the inch in the same subtle movement. “I know that, too. Whatever happened with the fight and then the suspension and ban from club - even a normal person would crack under all that. You were always sort of superhuman to me. Not just to me, I think. To everyone. It was like nothing could ever bother you, no matter what it was, even if the world dropped itself on your shoulders. You’d carry it just so no one else would have to. It’s one of the things I admired about you.”

A million different things swim through Noya’s thoughts, all of which render him speechless and more than a little shell-shocked. Asahi’s full candidness is rare and to have it directed at him makes it worth that much more, makes him appreciate the sincerity of it, the vulnerability. He relaxes a little more, breathes a little easier with what he has to say next.

“You remember when you asked me about the bruises? How I seem like I brush them off or whatever?”

Asahi manages to look sheepish as he rubs the back of his head. “Yeah. You started saying something, but I didn’t want to pry and you seemed really intent on changing the subject.”

With a lungful of air, Noya clenches and unclenches his fists, fingers splaying out before he shakes off the building nerves. “I had a pretty shitty childhood. The bruises started out when I was a kid. My dad - he used to come home pissed off a lot, somethin’ about his business deals or whatever, and a lot of the time, he was drunk.” He sucks in another lungful and only then does he realize that his hands have begun to shake. “At first, it didn’t happen all the time. My mom would say somethin’, he wouldn’t like the answer, they’d fight. Then one night, he lost his shit. Hit my mom. I found her on the floor with her lip split open and tryin’ to pretend she hadn’t been cryin’. But I knew.” His mouth twitches, feels his heartbeat quicken, his breaths thinning out in quiet gasps. “I was nine.”

Dredging up the memory, picturing his mother on the kitchen floor, makes the obstruction in his throat harder to swallow. Asahi’s jaw falls slack, but Noya shakes his head and grins weakly, despite his difficulty in making his lungs work. “You can probably guess what happened next.”

“You tried to stop him,” Asahi murmurs, disbelieving. 

The stinging sensation amps up a notch as Noya nods, lips pressed together as he clutches his shirtfront to keep the tightening in his chest from worsening. “Didn’t really have a choice. I couldn’t let ‘im do it again. I was scared he’d go after one of us next. My sister kind of shut away after that and she’s mostly kept to herself since then. My kid brother doesn’t remember much ‘cause he was so young, but the next time I saw it happen, I didn’t have to think about it. I jumped in and hit ‘im. Square in the face. Didn’t do much damage ‘cause I was a scrawny kid, but it was enough to get his focus off my mom.”

“Nishinoya--” 

“I had to,” Noya says, barely audible but with enough intensity that his voice cracks, eyebrows pinched together, the scenes replaying in his head like one of those old black and whites Sadashi used to make him watch. “Did everything I could to keep his anger on me and by then it--”

_Shit, not now... get a hold of yourself..._

He cuts off as air catches in his throat, makes it hard to breathe. Something warm trails down his cheeks, but he barely notices.

_Not now, not now, not now..._

Squeezing his eyes shut, he bows his head between his knees and gasps, “I-- s-sorry, I-I need--” His head shakes, but all he’s aware of is the way the room shrinks, spins, the way his heart hammers in his chest, drums in his ears in off-key beats. How each breath is straining to come and go, specks his vision with dots of white as his lungs struggle. 

Asahi moves and in the next second, Noya is pressed against him, chest to chest, hearts aligned. Hands press against his back, firm but gentle enough that it’s less constricting as it is comforting. A support of sorts, an anchor. He grasps Asahi’s shirtfront and wheezes, forehead dipping against his shoulder as he tries to regulate, to regain control. 

Something warm brushes against his ear and he hears Asahi’s voice, low and calm, a hint of panic as he holds Noya in place. “Focus on me. Inhale on counts of three. Exhale slowly,” he says, repeating it until Noya forces himself to listen, to push away everything else but the sound of his voice.

He doesn’t know how long it takes for everything to calm down, for the room to stop moving on its own, but when it does, it dawns on him that he’s somehow managed to get on Asahi’s lap, his head resting against Asahi’s shoulder. 

“You don’t have to keep going.” Asahi doesn’t move, doesn’t let him go. Even as his breathing evens out, normalizes, and he starts talking again. 

“I think I’m okay now.” He closes his eyes and finds the constriction in his chest is nearly all gone and all there is is Asahi’s quiet breathing, the beat in his chest thrumming against Noya’s palm as Noya continues, voice muted and a little shaky, “I joined the volleyball club in grade school the year after. I remember gettin’ really angry. I was pissed off all the time and I couldn’t control it. Gettin’ into fights, that sorta stuff. My mom suggested volleyball 'cause she saw a flyer at the market for one of the local teams and found out my school had a club I could join.”

“She probably knew you’d be good at it,” Asahi says not without awe. 

“Maybe. It worked anyway. I had somethin’ to focus on, somethin’ to keep me busy. Once I started really gettin’ into it, I had just as much of the good bruises as the bad ones. I think that’s when it hit me. I didn’t have to be ashamed of ‘em anymore ‘cause no one can tell one from the other. I used that to get better at it, so that there’d always be more of the good ones.”

A weight bears down on top of Noya’s head, Asahi’s response muffled and making Noya momentarily still as he feels the warmth against him. Then Asahi lifts his arm, lightly brushes around the new patches of purple and blue splotches before he gingerly traces across knuckles now healed. “That sounds like you. Seeing the good in the bad.”

“My dad went away when I was in middle school. Got locked up for some stupid shit he was involved in. I thought I’d gotten over it, that once he went away, I’d never have to think about it.” He turns his hand palm up, fingers absentmindedly toying with Asahi’s fingertips. “The morning of the fight, my mom got a call from the asshat who defended him in court. Said there was a parole hearin’ or somethin’, that my dad might get released. I guess I wasn’t as ‘over it’ as I thought.”

Suddenly, Noya feels drained. Every bone and muscle void of energy. Exhausted enough that he doesn’t hear the footsteps outside, doesn’t have enough time to disentangle from his current position before his mother opens the door and halts abruptly.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t realize you had company, Yuu.” Her smile is every bit as welcoming as she directs it at Asahi while Noya not so subtly scrambles off his lap. “Nice to see you again, Azumane-kun. Did you boys eat yet?”

“Yeah, Asahi brought dinner and we were talkin’ about dad and I sorta... freaked out,” he finishes lamely, eyeing the ribbon on her house slipper like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. 

“Another attack?” Her cadence changes, the worry there making Noya feel guilty about bringing it up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, mom. I’m fine. Asahi helped. That’s what was happenin’ when you-- I mean, when we were-- just now... um...”

“Well, it’s a good thing someone was here.”

Asahi stands and straightens out his shirt with a small bow, smile polite. “It’s getting kind of late, so I should probably be going.”

“Ah, of course! Let me walk you out, so Yuu can get some rest.” 

“Th-Thanks,” Asahi says before giving Noya a meaningful look. “Call me tomorrow?”

Noya nods and tries for his most enthusiastic grin. “For sure. Thanks again for dinner and... everything else.”

Then Asahi smiles, gives him one last fleeting look before he follows Noya’s mother out.

***

A short while later, Noya is curled up on his futon, blankets twisted between his legs when he hears his mother come in again. He’s too tired, bone-weary and too into his own head from everything that’s happened to bother trying to fully wake himself up to talk to her. Figuring she would come and go after saying goodnight, he’s surprised when the edge of his futon dips, her fingers running through his hair as much as she can manage through the resistant hair wax. 

“You’re probably sleeping, but I thought I’d come and say it anyway. Just in case you weren’t.” Her fingers brush away stray wisps of hair and he sighs at the gesture, but makes no other indication he’s heard her. “I saw how scared you were when I came in earlier and it dawned on me that it’s probably because of how you grew up, how your father was. Maybe you thought I’d have a problem with it, too. That I wouldn’t approve.”

She laughs, a little sadly. “I like Azumane-kun. I think he’s good for you. And he cares, you know? I see it every time he looks at you. The other stuff, none of that matters to me as long as you’re happy.” She exhales quietly and leans down to kiss his temple. “You’re my son and I love you. No matter what, I love you. I wanted you to know that.” With another brush of his hair, the weight next to him lifts, and with it a little bit of something else buried deep inside him. “Sleep well, little star.”

Then she’s gone as quietly as she had come, leaving Noya to think about everything until his mind finally gives in to sleep and thinks of nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your kudos/comments from the previous chapters have made me completely agjojlkj. They're all absolutely appreciated and are excellent motivators when I need a pick-me-up during update challenges. So thanks, truly. You guys are all awesome! <3
> 
> -H


	8. The One With the Sleepover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noya gets a little older, a little wiser, and a lot more of other things he doesn’t quite expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> life and other writing things got in the way, so this is so much later than I wanted, but I hope you guys enjoy the fluff anyway. :D special thanks to [**MTrash (Makaria)**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Makaria/works) for being my extra pair of eyes. ♥

“Are ya plannin’ on goin’ to the festival in sweats?”

Tanaka and Ennoshita arrive at Noya’s house at half past six, excited and ready to go just as Noya finishes up the video game he’d been playing with Takeshi. Noya glances at Tanaka from his peripheral before he turns back to the screen and manages to get in the final hit to the level boss, hands shooting up triumphantly. Takeshi whoops at the victory and swipes the controller from Noya when he pushes himself off the floor with a grunt. 

“I’m mostly ready! Look,” Noya argues, pointing to his hair with a proud grin, “even got the most important part done before you got here!”

“I can’t believe you guys are going without me,” Takeshi grumbles, glowering at Noya. “Azumane-san’s brother gets to go. Why can’t I?”

“Hey, don’t take it out on me,” Noya says with a fond ruffle of Takeshi’s hair. “You’re the one who didn’t study and failed your last math quiz. You know how mom is with that stuff.”

With a scrunch of his nose, Takeshi rolls his eyes. “You’re one to talk. You fail quizzes all the time! It’s so unfair.”

“But I’m also older and awesome and don’t ever tell mom about those failed quizzes that don’t exist.”

“I still call unfair.”

Tanaka laughs, takes a knee, and slings an arm around Takeshi’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, little man. We’ll bring you back somethin’ so you don’t feel totally left out.”

At the offer, Takeshi’s eyes light up and he grins. “My brother lucked out with you, you know,” he says solemnly, cupping a hand and dropping down to whisper, “you’re so much cooler than he is.”

“I heard that,” Noya says.

“I meant for you to,” comes the response, which only serves to bring out more laughter from Tanaka with Ennoshita joining in.

 

* * *

 

 

The train station is busy, even for a Saturday.

Tanaka and Ennoshita seem to be in their own little world, Tanaka’s arm casually slung over Ennoshita’s shoulder as he laughs about something Noya hadn’t heard. Noya would’ve felt left out had it not been a relief to see that everything looks to be working out for the both of them. 

“Hope the food this year is just as good,” he says, removing an earbud from his left ear. It causes the music still blaring to mute a considerable amount and it’s then he hears the strange gurgling his stomach makes. He follows it with a groan and clutches where the sound originated, incredulously scoffing at the other two. “Okay, how long has my stomach been makin’ that noise and why didn’t anyone tell me?!”

Tanaka snickers. “Thought it was funny. But I also wanted to see how long before you figured it out yourself.”

“Way to be a pal,” Noya mutters, concentrating hard on make the embarrassing noise from happening, to no avail. 

“Maybe you should’ve eaten something before we left?” Ennoshita asks, obviously trying to hold in his own laughter. He flinches when Tanaka’s finger pokes his cheek before the hand falls slack over Ennoshita’s shoulder again. 

The gesture earns Tanaka an eyeroll and when he glances in the direction the train is supposed to come from, Noya catches Tanaka’s gaze and questioningly raises his eyebrows. But Tanaka only lifts his shoulders in a halfhearted shrug in response, the smirk he wears gone before Ennoshita turns his attention back to the conversation. 

“I ate before Takeshi and I started playing.” Noya groans. “If that train doesn’t get here soon, I’m gonna die of starvation. Make sure my eulogy’s stellar.”

“Aw, precious flower. I’ll be sure to say nice things at your funeral. I’ll even get Chikara to put in a few words of high praise.”

“If he deserves it,” Ennoshita adds with a teasing laugh.

Noya clutches his chest in mock indignation. “Hey! I resent that! I always deserve high praise.”

“How many times have you taken a volleyball to the face again?” Ennoshita asks, his expression the picture of innocence.

“We don’t talk about that.”

Tanaka continues on, tapping his chin in mock contemplation. “Four? Five times? I’ve lost count.”

“You guys suck,” Noya says not without affection. “I shoulda known you two gettin’ together would be all sorts of trouble.”

“Oh, would ya look at that! Train’s here!” Tanaka says, clearing his throat.

Their train pulls up to the station platform, the conversation halting, but not before Noya feels a hint of smugness as he catches a glimpse of the pair, both red-faced when he follows them into the waiting car.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time they arrive, the festival is in full swing. Vendors line the grounds with booths filled with gaudy souvenirs for the influx of tourists, games with stuffed animal displays as prizes, and food so tempting with their wafting aromas that it jump starts the growling in Noya’s stomach to an alarming level. The urge to stop at every stall they pass tests his self-control and if it wasn’t for Tanaka and Ennoshita’s combined efforts to drag him to where they’re all supposed to meet the others, Noya would have severely depleted his wallet long before he’d gotten a chance to do anything besides stuff his face. 

“I think it’s around this corner,” Tanaka says, scrolling through his phone for the text messages Daichi had sent him. 

Ennoshita shakes his head and rests his chin on Tanaka’s shoulder as he reads through the texts mid-swipe. “Nope, Daichi-san said they’d be near the large stall selling lanterns right next to the one with the souvenir masks.”

“I could’ve sworn it was around this corner, but huh. I guess you’re right.” Tanaka plants a quick kiss on Ennoshita’s cheek, chuckling when Ennoshita flushes to the tips of his ears. “Never gets old.”

“Oh god,” Ennoshita mumbles into his hand before he hurries after Tanaka. 

Watching them go, Noya’s mouth quirks a small smile, glad that Tanaka’s leap of faith has worked out and even more glad that their resolved tension proved enough for Ennoshita to ease up on the team’s training regiment so that no one drops dead from volleyball practice.

As they near the lantern booth Ennoshita had mentioned, Noya spots a familiar figure before anyone else. His tunnel vision when it comes to Asahi is coming up on this side of embarrassing, but with the amount of time Noya has spent with him in the last few months, he’s oddly more surprised that he manages to pay attention to anything at all whenever Asahi is around.

Asahi is laughing at something, head thrown back and cheeks appled, the crinkles of his eyes bringing back the tiny flutters in Noya’s stomach that definitely has nothing to do with hunger. Even from this distance, Noya can hear it -- that low, hoarse, easy sound -- and he wonders if he’s somehow adopted Ennoshita’s supersonic hearing or if he’s heard Asahi’s laughter so many times that the familiar octave and scratchy rumble is now ingrained into his head. A permanent memory.

Suddenly, he’s hit with a sense of nervousness -- a weird sensation for him as it is. But lately he’s found that trying to breathe while simultaneously maintaining his usual nonplussed attitude doesn’t work out quite the way he expects. And, he also finds, it usually has to do with the boy who now turns toward them, hand awkwardly clamped at his nape, as he gives Noya one of those genuinely honest grins that somehow manages to make Noya want to both play it cool and imitate Ennoshita’s reaction to Tanaka’s sudden boyfriend material potential.

Air in. 

Air out.

Nothing to be warped out about.

He doesn’t realize how long he’s stood there staring until Tanaka backtracks and flicks his forehead. 

“Earth to Noya.”

Noya flinches and blinks before he exaggerates a scowl. “Really? What are you, five?”

“You’re havin’ a Buzz Lightyear moment. I’m just doin’ ya a favor so you don’t trip over your own feet,” Tanaka responds with a knowing grin. “One of my duties as the b.f.f.”

“You guys made it!” Daichi calls out as he meets them halfway. “We thought for sure you were lost. They put up more booths this year than the last few. I thought Narita and Kinoshita were coming?”

“Narita’s mom needed help with something at the last minute and Kinoshita said he’d help him,” Tanaka explains, “but they said for sure they’ll be there for the lunch thing.”

“That’s too bad, but I guess there’s always tomorrow.”

Suga, Asahi, and Arata trail not far behind, Arata clutching Asahi’s hand until he spots Noya. His expression lights up instantly and it’s then he releases his brother and makes a beeline for Noya instead. 

“You came,” he says quietly, the slight upturn of his mouth the only indication of his enthusiasm. “Nii-san said you’d take me to pick out my own lantern.”

Noya glances at Asahi, who nods to show he’s okay with it, before he ruffles Arata’s hair and grins. “You know it! But first, food. You wanna come help me choose the booth I’m gonna clean out?”

Arata huffs, but takes Noya’s hand nevertheless. “You can’t eat all that. You’d get sick.”

“You clearly underestimate Nishinoya’s skill when it comes to food,” Asahi says teasingly and Noya jumps back, wonders where he’d come from all of a sudden. Asahi nudges his arm before he stuffs his hands into his coat pockets and looks at his brother. “So, where to?”

Arata takes a moment to look around, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and Noya can’t help but watch Asahi as he waits for Arata to make a decision. With nightfall turning the pinks and oranges of the fading afternoon into a blanket of midnight blue, the bright lights of the festival illuminate everything and dance across Asahi’s face in a way that makes it hard for Noya to look away. He can see every twitch of amusement across the soft line of his mouth, the subtle lift of his eyebrows, the way his hair does the weird glowing thing that seems almost--

“Magical, huh?” Tanaka pipes up from beside him, the comment no doubt turning Noya’s face into something colorful and flaming and probably not on the side of attractive he’d like to be. “You seein’ fairies yet?”

“’s that supposed to be a metaphor?” Noya mutters before he angles his knee into the back of Tanaka’s leg to throw him off balance. Then he hisses, “get outta my head, assmuffin.”

“If you keep starin’ like you are, everyone’s gonna know what’s in your head, butterbean.” He steers Noya away just enough to get out of earshot. “Okay, so I know this shit’s supposed to be about makin’ wishes and probably for other people, but do ya think it’d be bad luck to, I dunno, make a wish for myself? Well, it’s not really for me, exactly, but I guess if ya put it one way, it could be--”

“Might wanna spit it out before the actual lantern thing is over, pumpkin.”

Tanaka sighs and drags a hand down his face. He looks like he can probably give Noya’s jumping bean routine a run for its money, but seeing as Noya is usually on that end, the empathy he feels knows no bounds.

“I wanted to make the wish for Chikara. For him to be happy, ya know? 'n’ I dunno, maybe to have it so that I get to be the one that keeps him that way. Maybe?” Tanaka gestures off to the side with some vague hand motion before he does a mandatory sweep of his newly shaved head. The space between his eyebrows crease and he stares at Noya expectantly, as though Noya hasn’t been stuck in his own perpetual moment of derp since the whole thing with Asahi started. “Is that selfish? For me to want that? Ugh, never mind it sounds dumber when I say it out loud.”

Noya considers this, considers the root of Tanaka’s question, but more than that, thinks of how much Tanaka seems to have grown into his own skin. That instead of running, instead of holding himself back, he’s wishing for it instead. 

He gives Tanaka an encouraging grin. “Nah, totally not selfish. Or dumb. In fact, that’s probably one of the least selfish things I’ve heard you say. Ever.” With a quiet chuckle, he clamps a hand on Tanaka’s shoulder and squeezes. “Things look good with you two. I’m really glad you had your ‘come to Jesus’ moment.”

“You any closer?” Tanaka asks with a not so subtle flicker of his eyes in Asahi’s direction. “Has he actually mentioned the button at--”

"Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Asahi says as he walks toward them, expression tinged with embarrassment at having to be the messenger. “Arata’s picked out where he’d like to eat and since Nishinoya said he was hungry...”

“Starving!” Noya says, a little too enthusiastically, before he manages the widest grin known to man. 

“Are you okay?” Asahi asks with genuine concern. “You seem a little, I don’t know, off?”

“Yeah, I’m cool. Totally cool. Just really, really hungry. Now, come on,” Noya says, ignoring Tanaka’s knowing smirk when he hooks his arm through Asahi’s to drag him back where the others are waiting. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

 

* * *

 

 

“Don’t forget to make your wish when you let it go,” Noya says, taking a knee next to Arata while they await the release of the first lantern. 

“I know. Nii-san and I come every year.” Staring at the lantern between his hands, he closes his eyes and furrows his eyebrows in concentration, before he turns to Noya. “You have to make a wish, too.”

“You wanna let ‘em go together?”

With a small nod, Arata turns back toward the front of the crowd as the first of the lanterns are set off. He exhales a soft breath, his eyes widening just a fraction, but enough that it makes Noya smile. Makes him wish that everything is that easy, that awe-inspiring. Uncomplicated. 

Makes him wish that somehow he could be like those lanterns, could fly and soar into the air, carrying everyone’s burdens and wishes with the strength of the wind. 

“Okay, everyone good to go?” When the others nod in unison, Noya gestures for Arata to go first, watches the wonder in his eyes as the lantern drifts before it rises. He and others follow suit, eyes shut tight. He thinks of Asahi, of how far he’s come in the last year. Thinks of the way he’s changed for the better and hopes that maybe, he might have something to do with it. Tanaka’s question pops into his head and for a second, he emulates the thought, the wish for Asahi’s happiness. For his strength. For his belief in himself. 

When he opens his eyes, he finds that the crowd is dispersing toward the sloped hillside adjacent to the festival. Daichi and Suga have already started in that direction with Ennoshita and Tanaka not far behind. Asahi and Arata remain, the latter staring up at the sea of lanterns floating in the sky with a sort of childlike innocence Noya sometimes sorely misses.

“Where’s everyone goin’?”

“The fireworks are starting in about half an hour,” Asahi explains before he gestures toward his brother, “but he likes to watch the lanterns a little longer before we find a seat.”

“I can see why,” Noya says, a little awe-struck, breathless. He follows Arata’s line of sight and finds it hard not to get caught up in the moment. “It’s all just really... _wow_.”

“Yeah, it is,” Asahi agrees, but when Noya glances at him from his peripheral, it’s not the lanterns or even the sky that has caught Asahi’s undivided attention. 

It catches him off guard, causes the butterfly cavern nesting in his stomach to stir, and suddenly he’s clearing his throat and stumbling to maintain his footing, intent on making it to where the others have disappeared to before Asahi can see his reaction. Having to explain why he suddenly feels like his temperature has spiked a million degrees or why his face looks like it’s a few shades away from a flaming tomato is really not on his agenda. 

Besides, he isn’t entirely sure Asahi was looking at him or if he was only agreeing with Noya’s spontaneous observation.

“What did you wish for?” he asks Arata as a way to distract his thoughts from going into another one of his warped overthinking deals. Besides, there’s something about Arata’s expression that sparks Noya’s curiosity, makes him wonder a little more about the way his mind works, the way he interprets everything. Just when Noya thinks he’s going one way--

“For the other kids to be like me.”

\--he goes the complete opposite direction. 

“Yeah? What do you mean ‘to be like you’? Though, if I gotta be honest,” he says as he cups a hand around his mouth with an exaggerated whisper, “I think they’d have a lot of catchin’ up to do if they wanted to reach that level of cool.”

“Nii-san said you told him that ‘different’ doesn’t always mean ‘bad’. That I’m different, but it’s good because I’m special.” Arata’s mouth twitches. The hint of a smile. “I wanted them to be special, too.”

A swell of pride catches in Noya’s chest, overwhelms him and in the next moment, Arata stops walking just long enough to give him a hug. Noya laughs in his surprise and asks, “what’s this for?”

When Arata pulls back, he gives a shy, tentative bow of his head. “For believing in me.” And then he’s walking again, as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, leaving Noya to process the spontaneous gesture in appreciative silence.

Then he feels a nudge at his side. He turns to see Asahi giving him one of those quiet smiles, hands stuffed in his pockets again, and looking much too pleased not to have heard the conversation. “My mom would probably be jealous seeing that,” he says as they start toward the others. 

There’s a tingling in Noya’s arm, a small ripple akin to electricity where Asahi’s arm brushes against it with each step they take. His eyebrows shoot up, confused. “Jealous? Why?”

“Arata doesn’t really let anyone breach his personal space. Not willingly, anyway, except for maybe me.” Asahi chuckles, a sort of awe in his expression. “But he hugged you. That’s a big deal and I never thought he’d ever open up to anyone like that.”

“Yeah?”

Asahi nods, leans in just as they’re nearing where everyone’s sprawled out, and murmurs so close that his breath is warm against Noya’s ear, “I’m glad it was you, though.”

Noya has to bite his lip from openly grinning like an idiot in case Tanaka sees and decides to take advantage. 

By the time they're seated and comfortable, there’s only a few minutes before the fireworks are set to begin. The crowd from the earlier event seems to only have gotten larger as more people came to watch the display. Seating, even with the preemptive planning, leaves little room between their group and the others packed just as tightly around them. Arata sits in front of Noya and Asahi, knees tucked into his chest as he keeps his eyes toward the sky. 

There is a nervous energy that runs through him. Jittery, a little bewildering. Out of place considering he’s not alone with Asahi and even if their friends weren’t sitting around them, there are more than a few hundred other people scattered everywhere.

He plants his hands next to him, fingers bedded against the soft grass, and looks up just as the pop of the first firework explodes into a shower of light. More follow, each one just as big, just as bright, just as loud. It’s been years since he’s seen a proper fireworks show, not counting the times he and Tanaka had set some off in his backyard, much to his mother’s chagrin.

The pops and booms and crackles continue and he’s so engrossed in watching every single one that he flinches when he feels Asahi’s fingers brush against the side of his hand. It’s subtle, the gesture, and with the barely existing proximity between them, it’s hidden away just enough that no one would be the wiser. His hand seems to react automatically to the implied intimacy and he turns it over, Asahi inching closer, fingertips lightly tracing along Noya’s palm before lacing their fingers together. Tight. Secure. And prompting Noya’s heart to jump into his throat in surprise.

He suddenly forgets how to breathe, forgets how air is supposed to work, forgets how _anything_ works, if he’s going to be honest, except for the one thing causing the flashing strobe lights and blaring sirens in his head. 

_He’s-- we’re--_

_...um._

Noya turns toward Asahi, confused with what’s happening only to find Asahi’s eyes decidedly trained on the fireworks display. He could very well be watching it just like everyone else had it not been for the strong pulse beating between them, matching the rapid beats drumming in Noya’s chest like some over-enthusiastic drum line.

Noya squeezes. 

Asahi squeezes back.

And he takes in the moment, focuses on every detail, commits them to memory. Wonders if it’s possible to grin so wide his face would never go back to normal again.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning had started off a little hectic. Despite it being Noya’s birthday, sleeping in hadn’t been an option, his mother nudging him awake with promises of pancakes. When that hadn’t worked, his brother and sister took it upon themselves to dive bomb him just as he was drifting off again. They’d only just gotten back from the shrines before Tanaka had texted him to say he and Ennoshita were on their way to the restaurant they were supposed to meet for lunch.

“Are you really not gonna let me go?!” Takeshi’s pleading expression is endearing, his lip jutting out in the same exaggerated way his eyes widen hopefully. “I promise you won’t even know I’m there!”

Noya snorts. “Sorry, rugrat. It’s gonna be boring anyway. Volleyball talk and stuff.”

“But I love volleyball talk! Come on, nii-san, please?”

“If mom says you can go, then maybe.”

“That’s not fair! You already know she’d say no ‘cause I asked her earlier.”

“Marshall Law, sorry!” Noya says with his hands up in surrender, earning him a grumble with Takeshi leaving in a huff, but not before sticking his tongue out in retaliation. 

**Sent To: ryuu**  
[text]: leavin my house  
[text]: b there soon  
[text]: u got time to be gross before i get there lol

**Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: if ud get ur shit together u 2 could be gross ;DD

**Sent To: ryuu**  
[text]: asshole

**Received From: ryuu**  
[text]: pot or kettle? lol  
[text]: hurry up pumpkin we hangry

 

* * *

 

 

Noya spots Tanaka in one of the booths along the wall, Ennoshita next to him idly tracing his palm with the tips of his fingers. He saunters over, smug grin in place when they awkwardly stop and put a few inches between them.

“You guys don’t have to quit bein’ all gross just ‘cause I got here,” he teases, sliding into the booth and barely deflecting the straw cover Tanaka launches in his direction.

“Just wait ‘til Asahi gets here and we’ll see who’s gross,” Tanaka counters as he not so subtly kicks Noya’s shin under the table. “Besides, it’s still takin’ some gettin’ used to.”

“Me and Asahi don’t get gross. We’re not even together,” Noya says with a roll of his eyes. “You guys, though... I gotta say, I’m glad someone finally decided to get industrial-strength b--”

“Speaking of Asahi,” Tanaka interrupts, throwing Noya a pointed look before aiming another kick at him, “I thought he was comin’ with you?”

“He had something to do this morning, so he said he’s meetin’ us here with the others. I think it’s just Narita and Kinoshita, though. Suga and Daichi apparently had some bad squid from the festival and from what their texts said this morning, it looks like they’ve been payin’ some heavy tributes to the porcelain throne.”

Tanaka grimaces. “That sounds like something I’m totally not envious of. What did Asahi have to do?”

“Dunno. He was kinda vague about it, but I figured if he wanted me to know, he’d tell me.”

“Aw, so considerate, precious flower. Usually I can’t get you to shut up when you’re askin’ me stuff. But I guess it’s ‘cause I’m not your boyf--”

“ASAHI, HEY, YOU MADE IT!” Noya says much too loudly before he directs a glare at Tanaka’s sheepish reaction. “We thought you guys got lost or something!”

Asahi glances around the table as he approaches with Narita and Kinoshita behind him, his expression bewildered and questioning. “My thing this morning ran a little late, sorry,” he says, his hand clamping around his nape. He takes a seat next to Noya, the other two sliding into the seats opposite of each other. “Did everyone order already?”

“Nah, just got here, so you’re good,” Noya says with a shake of his head. He ignores the look Tanaka gives him when Asahi shifts closer, presumably to make room for Narita on his other side, though there’s more than enough room with two people missing from their party. “Is everything okay with whatever you had to do earlier?”

Without taking his eyes off the menu, Asahi mumbles, “yeah, why do you ask?”

The strange way Asahi answers him throws Noya off for a second, but he recovers and shrugs in response. “No reason.”

Asahi seems to sense his confusion and bumps their arms together. “It’s nothing, I promise. Don’t worry, okay?”

“I’m not,” Noya counters, though the unsettling feeling remains and he can’t help but wonder what it is that Asahi is purposely not saying. Pushing the nagging thought away, he turns to everyone else. “Are we gettin’ food or what?! I’m starvin’!”

“You’re always starving,” Ennoshita says, laughing.

“True, but it’s my birthday. You wouldn’t want me starvin’ on my birthday, right?”

“Can’t have that,” Asahi says as he closes his menu with a grin. “Order whatever you want. My treat.”

“You don’t have to do that!” Noya feels the heat ignite at his nape. It’s not the first time Asahi’s offered to pay for him, but they’d always been by themselves and even then, Noya would refuse unless Asahi agreed to let him get the next one. But this time -- this time, there are other people there. “Really, I can pay for myself.”

“Like hell you can. If Asahi’s not coverin’ you, I’m not gonna let ya buy your own food on your birthday.” Tanaka’s foot nudges him pointedly under the table and Noya stifles a snort, wondering what would have happened had Tanaka missed and hit Asahi instead.

Asahi chuckles. “That settles it, then. I’m paying.”

“If you don’t want the free food, I’ll take it for you,” Kinoshita says jokingly.

When it seems clear that Asahi isn’t going to back down, Noya sighs and petulantly grumbles, “fine. But only ‘cause it’s my birthday.”

One of the servers approaches the table, pen and pad in hand. Once they all give their orders, she leaves them to their conversation again. Having them all there makes Noya more relaxed and carefree than he’s felt in the last couple of months. Granted, the ban had been entirely his fault and in turn, caused the burden of Karasuno’s eventual loss to fall on his shoulders. But being with his friends now, laughing and joking and trading embarrassing stories of Noya as is the custom the second years had started on each of their birthdays from previous years, lifts a little of that weight. Alleviates him of some of the guilt, knowing that his friends see him no different than if they’d won.

When everyone has eaten their weight in food, Noya leans back in his seat and holds his stomach, groaning. “I think someone might need to roll me outta here.”

“Or I could carry you?” Asahi asks helpfully. 

Tanaka snickers. “Bridal-style? I’d pay to see that!”

“No one’s carryin’ anyone, assmuffin.” Noya stretches out his arms before slumping contentedly in his seat again. “Are we gonna go ‘cause I might want to hibernate after eatin’ my winter rations.”

“Wait, there’s a-- hold on,” Asahi says, turning to signal the server. Then he catches Tanaka’s eye and nods just as everyone around the table erupts into an off-key rendition of “ _Happy Birthday_ ”.

Following everyone’s eyes, Noya spots their server emerging from the kitchen with a small cake, candles lit in the shape of a number four. He throws his head back and laughs, the flames swaying to and fro once the dessert is placed in front of him. 

“You guys should’ve told me there was cake!” he says, inhaling deeply in anticipation of the candle-blowing. 

“That would defeat the element of surprise, precious flower. ‘Sides, it was all Asahi’s idea, including keepin’ quiet about it until they brought it out.”

Noya nudges Asahi, his grin wide. Surprised, but pleased. “You did this?”

Scratching his cheek, Asahi nods with a sheepish smile and gestures to the cake. “Make a wish.”

Remembering what he’d wished for the day before at the festival, Noya almost echoes the wish again but pauses as he looks around, takes in the sight and shakes his head. He blows out the candles. “I got everything I want already. Right here with you dweebs.”

“Well, you’re sitting here with us, so what does that make you?” Narita asks with a laugh.

Noya glances at every one of their faces and suddenly, he feels a swell of gratitude. “Lucky, I guess.”

“You know how weirdly emotional I get when you say stuff like that!” Tanaka says, clutching his chest. “We’re lucky to have you, too, pumpkin. Now are ya gonna share that cake ‘cause I’m pretty sure you were talkin’ about bein’ too full a minute ago.”

Noya divides the pieces and is just about to ask if they’ve heard from Suga and Daichi when a familiar voice calls his name behind them.

“Kira-chan!” As soon as the words come out, Asahi stiffens next to him and suddenly, Noya feels like he’s done something he probably shouldn’t have.

“Happy birthday, Nishinoya-kun!” Color rises high on Kira’s cheeks as she approaches the table with her friend in tow. “I heard your name when they were singing, so I thought I’d come by to say hi.” Her eyes sweep the table before she takes a small step back. “But it looks like I’m interrupting something, so we’ll leave you guys to it. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I’d have texted you if I’d known.”

Noya shakes his head, gestures to the empty seats at the end, and offers an encouraging grin. “No, it’s cool. Seriously! Take a seat and have some cake!”

“Are you sure?” she asks, sparing a glance at Asahi in particular as she contemplates the invitation. “We don’t want to butt in.”

“Totally sure! There’s plenty of cake to go around!” Noya passes around the plates as Kinoshita moves to sit next to Narita. “Do you know Narita, Kinoshita, and Ennoshita? They’re on the team, too.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Tanaka quips, nodding to the girl who’s taken the end seat as she and Kira slide in next to Ennoshita. 

“You already met ‘em,” Noya responds. “How many introductions do you need?”

“We’ve seen them at the games, but I don’t think I’ve seen them play. Are you guys starters, too?” Kira asks before she takes a bite of the cake.

“Nah, we warm the bench. Or the little box next to the court, I guess,” Kinoshita says with a chuckle. “These guys are the rockstars.”

“Team support is just as important to the team as anything else!” Kira says sincerely and the guys seem to take this well, each and every one smiling and collectively patting each other on the backs.

“What about you?” Kira’s friend pipes up, smiling shyly at Asahi. 

“Oh, sorry! This is Shinobu,” Kira says, nudging the other girl’s shoulder. “She goes to Shiratorizawa with me.”

Echoes of “nice to meet you” follow all around before Asahi returns the smile and answers, “ah, I used to play, but not anymore.”

“Don’t let that modesty fool ya!” Noya says, pride brimming. “He was the ace of our team last year!”

Shinobu looks considerably impressed. “So you were on the team when they beat us? Wow!”

“It’s not a big deal and it wasn’t just me. The whole team worked hard for the win and--”

“See? What’d I tell ya? Modesty.” Noya takes a large bite of his cake, trying to ignore the way Shinobu continues looking at Asahi with that same look Kira had first given him. Except this time, Noya is pretty sure the interest is all there. Focused and genuine. 

The nausea returns, as does the guilt at the sudden animosity he feels. Asahi can talk to whoever he wants and they’re free to do the same, despite the weird tightening thing his chest is doing that tells him otherwise.

Air in.

Air out.

He invited them over. He can get through this.

Then he sees her reach over and touch Asahi’s hand mid-sentence and whatever pep talk bullshit he’s just made up to steady himself goes right out the window.

It shouldn’t make him uncomfortable. Shouldn’t make him feel like a train wreck into a brick wall of insecurity waiting to happen, make him purposely engage in a conversation with Kira across the table just because Asahi is busy answering more questions Shinobu has directed at him. But a twinge of the same thing he felt when he saw Asahi on the train station platform with the pretty girl from cram school returns in full force. Stays curled in his gut throughout the remainder of lunch until he points out how late it’s gotten and that they should probably get going. 

As he watches Asahi help the girl to her feet after she nearly stumbles out of the booth, her smile grateful and a little flustered, Noya wonders if it was a good idea to invite them to stay after all. 

 

* * *

 

 

Narita and Kinoshita had left as soon as lunch was through, citing that Narita’s mother had requested help yet again and they should probably spend the night at his place so they can get up early and get it over with. Noya wouldn’t have minded so much except their departure meant his spontaneous sleepover now looks less like a bunch of his friends crashing for the night and more like a double date winding down.

The thought makes him simultaneously nervous and giddy, both of which are prime catalysts for stupid things he shouldn’t do but will probably end up doing anyway.

“How long have you been drawing, Nishinoya?”

Noya glances at Ennoshita just long enough to answer “since I can remember” before Asahi laughs triumphantly when he beats him in the fighting game they’re currently occupied with. Noya groans at the well-played defeat. 

“These are really, really good,” Ennoshita remarks, flipping page after page of the sketchbook open on his lap.

Tanaka’s head rests on the curve of Ennoshita’s shoulder as he points out some of the details in the pictures. “These aren’t even half of the stuff he’s done and the completed ones are even more badass!”

“Seriously, though. You have talent. Lots of it. Have you thought about doing this professionally?”

“Sort of? I’ve done pretty well in the small gallery a friend of mine runs, but I dunno. I guess I haven’t thought too much about it ‘cause I do it for me, ya know?” Noya flushes, embarrassed that direct compliments still manage to make him flustered, no matter the context.

“Tanaka’s right. The finished work kind of takes your breath away,” Asahi agrees as he sets the controller down and tucks his legs against his chest. The gesture has a slight comedic effect, seeing how Asahi is easily the largest of the group and the position makes him look more timid than he really is. 

Again, Noya feels his face burn at Asahi’s comment and he bows forward, palms covering its entirety. Tanaka and Ennoshita continue rifling through his drawings and for once, Noya is glad he remembered to tidy up before he left that morning and put away the sketchbooks containing any incriminating material Tanaka might feel the need to call attention to.

“Speaking of art... things,” Asahi starts again, pushing up off the floor and walking over to Noya’s closet. When he returns, he sets down a box wrapped in brown craft paper with varying nature-inspired images blending together, all done in a watercolor style so familiar that Noya’s excitement immediately spikes. “Happy birthday, Nishinoya.”

“Holy volleyballs, did Arata paint these?!” Noya thumbs over each carefully done piece as he attempts to undo the wrapping paper without ruining it. “You didn’t have to get me anything!”

“I know,” Asahi says with a small smile. “But we wanted to. He even helped me pick out the stuff in the box.”

“How’d you even sneak this up here?!”

“Do you remember when I said I had a thing this morning that ran late? I didn’t technically lie. This was just another thing on top of that, so, uh... yeah.”

“You didn’t--”

“I had to wait for you to leave your house so I could drop it off. Your mom was getting worried I’d miss lunch altogether because your brother kept asking you to go.”

“Wait, my _mom_ was in on this?!”

Asahi scratches his cheek, his smile sheepish. “Well...”

Noya pops the lid open and gapes at the contents. A brand new canvas pouch filled with sketch pencils and Copic markers is the first thing he sees. His jaw drops when he takes in the sketchbooks in different sizes, each cardboard cover done in the same style as the wrapping paper. As each item is removed, Noya finds a folded piece of paper beneath everything else. He opens to read it and if there’s a single moment in this entire night that could prompt him to turn on the waterworks, this would definitely be it.

With a half-assed attempt at keeping his remaining composure, Noya croaks, “are you fucking serious?”

Tanaka and Ennoshita scramble up behind him to read it, collectively gasping and turning their attention on Asahi, who looks much too pleased to be embarrassed.

“Chihaya says she hopes you’ll consider interning with them once you’re ready. You don’t have to use the recommendation letter, but she thought you should have it just in case so you can bypass the usual application process.”

Without a second thought to how it might be taken, Noya launches himself at Asahi, arms wound tightly around his neck. “God damn it, you weren’t supposed to get me all stupid emotional about gettin’ old,” he mumbles, sniffling. Then it dawns on him that he’s held on a moment too long and presses his forehead to Asahi’s shoulder, his cheeks burning hotter than a thousand suns. “They’re starin’ at us, aren’t they?”

Asahi chuckles, his voice low and slightly embarrassed as he says, “a little. More smirking than staring, though.”

“Oh, we’re starin’ a lot!” Tanaka counters. “We’re not the only ones gettin’ gross, are we, Chika?”

“Nope, this is gross, too. So much gross,” Ennoshita says with a laugh, chin resting on Tanaka’s shoulder.

“I hate you guys,” Noya grumbles, his awkwardness rising to mortifying levels, before reluctantly disentangling himself from Asahi. 

When they’ve all settled down and Noya has carefully put away his new art supplies like the box contains Mona Lisa herself, Ennoshita and Tanaka go back to _oooh_ ’ing and _aaah_ ’ing over some of his newer sketches, leaving him with Asahi again.

He stretches out on the tatami mats and it’s a few minutes before it dawns on him that Asahi has fallen silent. He peeks out from his semi-uncomfortable position only to realize Asahi is already looking at him. Teasingly, he pokes Asahi’s knee with his finger. 

“What are ya thinkin’ about?”

Asahi chuckles, seemingly embarrassed at having been caught staring. “N-Nothing much.”

“You got quiet. And your eyebrows are pinching together. You only get that way when you’re thinkin’ about something, so what is it?”

“It’s nothing to worry about.” Asahi presses his lips together as though trying to keep from saying something else, but then he adds, “I’m glad you liked your present. And that your other friends came over earlier. You looked like you were really enjoying yourself.”

“I was,” Noya says, confused about the tightness in Asahi’s tone. “You did, too. Wait, is that why you got quiet toward the end?!”

“No!” Asahi exclaims, then drags a hand down his face and sighs. “Yes? Maybe. I don’t know. I just didn’t want to hog your attention while they were there because I didn’t want to be rude. Do you and Kira talk a lot?”

There’s something that catches in Asahi’s voice, something that makes Noya pause enough to give careful consideration of his next response.

“Kind of? I mean, it’s only ‘cause I don’t talk to a lot of girls that way and she’s really easy to keep a conversation with. You and her friend seemed to be getting along, though.” The knot in Noya’s gut makes a spectacular comeback and he bites the inside of his cheek in the hopes that it would magically disappear on its own. He forces a smile, regrets bringing it up. “She couldn’t stop starin’ at you.”

Asahi instantly turns five shades of red, crosses his arms over the tops of his knees, and groans into the hollow space between. “Oh god, she wasn’t staring.”

“She so was and I don’t blame her,” Noya insists, positioning himself next to Asahi and bumping their legs together. “If you haven’t noticed, you’re kinda ridiculously attractive.”

“You think I’m attractive?”

Now it’s Noya’s turn to flush, the heat burning to the tips of his ears. “You are,” he mumbles with an awkward laugh. “Even if you can’t see it.”

“You’re right, I don’t see it. I’m nowhere near as attractive as you are and--”

“More...”

“What?”

“More than me.” Noya leans against him, presses his cheek against Asahi’s arm as he says, “one of these days, I’ll make ya see it, too. Just wait.”

“I might be waiting a while.”

Noya glances up at Asahi and grins. “Challenge accepted.”

 

*****

 

“You were jealous. C’mon, admit it.”

“Keep your voice down, will ya?” Noya hisses, chancing a look at the other two now rifling through some of his other sketchbooks while he and Tanaka get their sleeping arrangements squared away. He heaves the extra futon into the room, Tanaka following behind with the pillows and blankets they’ve taken from the linen closet. “I was _not_ jealous. I was...” He pauses with a grunt before he rolls out the bedding and sprawls out on it. “I don’t know what I was, but it sure as hell wasn’t that!”

“Wasn’t what?” Asahi asks, taking a seat by Noya’s feet, sketchbook in hand. 

“Nothing,” Noya mumbles. He turns toward Asahi and elbows Tanaka as he maneuvers himself into a sitting position. “Ryuu’s bein’ a shit and I was just explainin’ to him that he’s wrong.”

“Didn’t seem like it to me,” Tanaka shoots back with a knowing smirk before Noya effectively takes him out with one of the extra pillows. “Ow, shit! That’s my face, asshat!”

“Hey, don’t hurt the goods,” Ennoshita says, sidling up to Tanaka and planting a kiss on his cheek. “I like his face not smashed in.”

“So you’re sayin’ you wouldn’t be attracted to me if Noya broke my face?!” Tanaka asks, hand pressed to his chest in mock incredulity. “I think I’d be hotter. Someone once told me the bad-boy look was in.”

“Okay, if you guys are gonna keep bein’ gross, I’m gonna sleep downstairs where I can gag in peace.” Noya laughs and aims a pillow at Tanaka’s head again, this time expertly deflected by Ennoshita himself. “Nice save, Chikara!”

“Good thing I specialize in defense, huh?” Ennoshita gives Noya a smug grin as Tanaka slings an arm around his shoulder. “Are we all going to fit on two futons?”

“Yeah, I figured you guys wouldn’t mind sharin’ one and I can sleep on the floor.” Noya edges off the futon and gestures to the empty space. “Asahi can take this one.”

“I can take the floor, Nishinoya,” Asahi starts with a shake of his head. “It’s your house--”

“--and you’re my guest, so no way I’m havin’ you on the floor.”

“What way would you have ‘im then, sunbeam?” Tanaka asks cheekily. Ennoshita elbows Tanaka in the ribs with a reproachful click of his tongue to silence him. “I’m kiddin’, I’m kiddin’! Jeez, that was my kidney I think.”

“People survive with one kidney,” Ennoshita says, all innocence. 

Noya and Asahi both laugh in mild embarrassment, Asahi’s hand clamping his nape and making Noya inadvertently stare. “We can share the futon. If you don’t mind sleeping next to me, I mean. It’ll be just like training camp, remember?”

“I guess we were technically sleeping next to each other, but I don’t know... you don’t think it’ll be weird--”

“It wouldn’t be weird,” Asahi assures him, the words coming out in a quiet rush. Then he smiles, turns Noya’s insides into the butterfly cavern he’s been trying to avoid. “I even promise I’ll try not to roll over on you.”

Noya bursts into laughter at the image of Asahi pinning him under his weight and in the same instance, the innocence of it goes out the window as another image takes its place. One less comical and definitely not something he needs to be thinking about with his friends in the room. 

“Okay, yeah. Not accidentally crushing me in my sleep sounds good to me,” he manages with a tug of his collar. 

Trying to busy himself with getting the futons ready, it’s a few minutes before everyone’s finally sprawled out and marginally comfortable. Tanaka and Ennoshita are talking, voices and laughter muted, but still audible. Noya attempts to stick to his side without falling off the thin cushion, but being acutely aware of Asahi’s warm body next to him while simultaneously forcing himself not to think about it is proving the task to be more difficult than he first thought. 

He shifts to find a more comfortable position when he feels a hand on his hip. Tentative and a little shaky, but firm enough that it urges him back and keeps him from rolling off. Turning to face Asahi, he gives him a questioning lift of his eyebrows and forces a swallow. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna make it uncomfortable or anything--”

“It’s better than you sleeping on the floor.” Asahi pauses and clears his throat. “Would it make you uncomfortable?”

Noya shakes his head, bites the edge of his lip. Contemplates the suggestion. Then he scoots closer to Asahi and lays down facing the opposite wall. He’s left a good chunk of space between them, but sucks in a quiet inhale when he feels Asahi breach it enough for his breaths to warm Noya’s nape. Noya fights a shiver and squeezes his eyes shut, staying the grin threatening to emerge even though it’s dumb because it’s dark and no one would see anyway. 

“Goodnight, Nishinoya,” Asahi murmurs, voice sleep-heavy and hoarse. Reminding Noya of the first time he’s woken Asahi, of the inflection in his tone, the gravel-like quality that Noya hasn’t quite been able to forget. “Happy birthday.”

Noya moves back a fraction, just enough to sense the form behind him, but not enough to feel the weight of it, and stops fighting the smile. “Night, Asahi. Sweet dreams.”


	9. The One With the Plunge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the end of the school year draws near, Noya learns that dipping your feet in is not the same as taking the plunge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got away from me a little bit, but hopefully the ending makes up for my severe lack of updates lately. Last scene inspired by [**this song**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZsXcc_tC-o) and [**this art**](https://boniebelle.tumblr.com/post/148927794252/i-miss-them) by [boniebelle](http://boniebelle.tumblr.com). Happy reading! :D
> 
> -atsu
> 
> **EDIT:[HOLY FJOWJGLKJJ THERE IS ART](http://limitlessmonster.tumblr.com/post/150204699216/art-by-my-lollipop-drawverylittle-inspired-by) BY [DRAWVERYLITTLE](http://drawverylittle.tumblr.com) YAYY. My lolli is so good to me. ♥ Now, excuse me while I yell and weep and do some more pterodactyl screeching because emotions.**

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: hbd!!  
[text]: how’s it feel to be an old man? ;D

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: nishinoya you are literally 10 months younger than me

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: 10 mos is a long time!   
[text]: long enough for a beard to grow between us

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: what? that doesn’t even make sense  
[text]: are you saying I should shave it off?  
[text]: the beard makes me look old, doesn’t it?

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: lol older n still not wiser  
[text]: im just messin w u ur not old  
[text]: besides its only a little beard and i kinda like it ;)

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: oh god

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: ur face is in ur hands isnt it???

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: ..........no?  
[text]: okay fine yes it is  
[text]: I can feel you judging me through the text screen

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: aw look whos bein cute

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: how am I supposed to keep from doing it when you say things like that? :(  
[text]: aren’t you supposed to be nice to old people

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: ur only 10 mos older remember? ;D

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: well played lol  
[text]: my mom is asking if you’re still coming over later  
[text]: she says there’s extra birthday cake

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: well if ur MOM wants me to come

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: too  
[text]: she wants you to come too  
[text]: mostly me, though

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: when u put it that way :D

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: okay now I’m embarrassed ;;

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: dont b  
[text]: its cute ;D

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: Nishinoya...............................

* * *

  

“Earth to Noya. The Earthlings would like a word with you.” Tanaka snaps his fingers and instantly, Noya whips his head. A little dazed, a little confused, but considering he’d spent the better part of the last four hours going over Ennoshita’s sure-fire, no-room-for-failure study questions, the loss of coherency comes with little surprise.

“Huh?” he asks intelligently, still preoccupied with one of the last decent conversations he and Asahi had via text mail.

With a loud guffaw, Tanaka shakes his head and smacks Noya on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. “Still no word?”

Noya blinks and realizes Tanaka’s attention has shifted to his phone. He glances through the last few texts he’d sent Asahi, most of which received short responses, if Asahi manages to answer at all. 

He keeps trying to remind himself that nothing weird was going on, that Asahi is likely helping out at the cram school more than usual because of final exams looming around the corner. After all, they’d spent Asahi’s birthday and the weeks following it hanging out like normal. Ordinary, casual, non-dates. At least that’s what he’s tried to tell himself whenever Asahi had taken his hand underneath the table at the ramen place they frequent, or when Asahi sat with his arm pressed against Noya’s throughout every movie they’ve seen together.

It’s hard not to get sucked into something like that. Especially when the random gestures leave his skin tingling where Asahi’s had made contact. 

“He’s just busy, that’s all,” Noya says, quick to stow the phone away with a shrug. It’s not a lie. Technically. But after everything had gone so well the last few months, Asahi’s recent lack of communication leaves an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. It follows him around like some sort of noxious cloud and no matter how much he tries to convince himself that he’s probably overthinking things, that Asahi’s sudden one eighty probably has nothing to do with him, the longer it goes on, the harder it becomes to shove the wall of doubt away.

“You’re probably right. You said he’s helpin’ out at the cram center, right? Everyone’s up to their elbows studyin’ for exams, so it’s normal that Asahi would be out of commission. And anyway, that leaves you more time to study. Maybe he’s even doin’ it on purpose so that you can focus on your own shit. Sounds like somethin’ Asahi would do.”

Everything Tanaka says makes sense in Noya’s head, but as much as he wants to believe it. As much as he _needs_ to believe it, a small voice in the back of his mind tells him otherwise.

Before he can respond, his phone goes off and has him scrambling to turn the ringer off before the librarian decides to effectively ban them from the premises. 

“Hello?” he stage-whispers, shoving Tanaka to the side and planting a hand on his mouth to muffle what sounds like “is that Asahi on the phone? Tell him I said he should come help us study!”. The number isn’t familiar and he doesn’t recognize the voice on the other end.

“Nishinoya?”

Noya balances the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he fights off Tanaka’s efforts. “Yeah? Who’s this?”

“It’s Kuroo,” the voice says with a chuckle. “You sound kinda busy, so I’ll make it quick. Kenma gave me your number ‘cause he said you might be looking for a place to crash next term. Sorry it took so long to get back to you, but we had to free up the space. You still interested?”

“Place to crash...” Noya trails off, suddenly remembering what Kuroo is talking about and that Kenma had brought up the upcoming vacancy during training camp. “Oh! Right! Yeah, totally!”

“Stellar. I can give you the details later, but I wanted to get in touch with you before we started looking for a new roomie. Kenma says you’re pretty cool and if Kenma’s cool with you, we’re gonna get along just fine.”

Noya laughs, hand still clamped over Tanaka’s mouth. “I heard about what happened. I guess his loss is my gain, right?”

“Right,” Kuroo says with a snort. “Anyway, the other guy’ll be outta here by the end of March, so you can start moving in stuff after that.”

“Sounds good!” Then Noya pauses, suddenly remembers that he’s been too preoccupied with exams and passing on the torch ~~and Asahi’s lack of responses~~ lately to spare any extra brain cells about making the big move, never mind what he’s going to do regarding furniture. “Hey, I forgot to ask Kenma, but the extra room wouldn’t happened to be furnished, would it? I don’t actually have anything to move, really, but figured I’d ask before I begged my mom to splurge on some second-hand stuff.”

“Uh, I’m not actually sure,” Kuroo says before a crash in the background followed by muffled voices causes Noya to flinch.

“Everything good over there?”

“Yeah-- oof! Okay, I’ll ask him! Shit, those were my balls, Bo!” A few scuffled scratches later, and Kuroo manages to get back on the line. “About the furniture deal, let me check in with Bo and we can probably figure somethin’ out. Oh, and he’s askin’ if you cook.”

“Uh, does burning ramen count?”

Kuroo chuckles before he grunts, his end of the line muffled again. A few seconds pass and he returns with an amused, “no worries, bro. I told Bo he should just have Akaashi move in if he wanted the home-cookin’, but he keeps sayin’ it’s complicated. Whatever. Anyway, I gotta go. Just wanted to give ya the good news. We’re really not weird, I swear.” A voice yells something Kuroo manages to muffle before he concedes, “Okay, that might be a lie.”

At this, Noya barely manages to stifle a snort, but busts out laughing anyway, much to the chagrin of the others trying to cram in some study time around him. “I’m good with weird! Thanks for callin’ about the place, though. Almost forgot bein’ homeless is not part of the ultimate college experience. It’s been kinda crazy with exams and everything.”

“Sure thing! You’re actually savin’ us from havin’ to vet a new roomie, so it’s a win-win all around. I’ll call ya when I figure out what’s with the furniture deal.”

“Awesome and thanks again!”

The line beeps and before Noya can tell Tanaka the good news, Tanaka whoops in excitement and uses Noya’s shoulders as leverage to jump up and click his heels together. The librarian glares in their direction and Noya has the distinct impression that they should probably pack up their shit, lest they need to make a quick getaway.

“Next year is gonna be fucking amazing! You’ll let me crash with you when I’m too drunk to find my dorm room, right?”

“You sure you’re not drunk right now, moonbeam?”

“Drunk on life, sunflower! I kinda feel like that song from the Lego movie. Ya know the one?” Tanaka starts bobbing his head and humming the melody. He bursts into full-on song before they manage to shove their stuff into their bags and book it out of the library just in time to avoid the severely annoyed librarian doubtless coming over to tell them off.

“We’re so gettin’ banned from here,” Noya mutters, adjusting the strap on his book bag on his way through the sliding double doors with Tanaka in tow.

Despite the weird vibes from Asahi causing a hint of the nausea to return, Kuroo’s good news has Noya finally feeling a fraction more optimistic that everything else would eventually fall into place.

But he crosses his fingers as Tanaka drags him off to grab some lunch anyway. Maybe his toes, too. 

Just in case. 

* * *

  

As the deadline for exams creep closer, the months preceding them fly by quicker than even Noya had anticipated. School usually drags, usually has Noya willing time to go faster if only to get to the end of the day when he’d be free’d up for other things more enjoyable than memorizing the proper way to conjugate verbs or dissect literature he’ll never read again. 

But not now. 

Now, he’s praying for the extra hours to cram, the precious blips of time long enough to squeeze in a nap before he has to subject his overworked brain to another hour or five of grueling study session hell. Even Tanaka is feeling the burn, though the renewed determination to pass might have something to do with Ennoshita’s iron guidance and his infinite patience with his less academically-inclined classmates. Noya is glad for it, though. Ennoshita’s determination to make sure they pass is probably the only reason he’s not waking up in cold sweat from panic-induced nightmares about horribly failing all his exams and ending up like his deadbeat father.

Additionally, though the season is officially over, Noya has taken it upon himself to spend what free time he does have to passing on the torch to the team’s new libero. Hopefully without Noya’s mishaps outside of volleyball. After Karasuno’s loss in the last tournament, he figured it’s his duty as senpai and official team libero to make sure they’re stronger than ever. To keep alive the legacy Daichi and Suga and Asahi have left in their care.

"I think I’m all studied out for the night,” Noya announces, falling back against his unmade futon despite Ennoshita’s withering stare. “I might be dying. Or my brain is. In which case, the rest of me would probably follow. Lemon drop, promise me you’ll say nice things at my funeral.”

“You say that every night we’ve been cramming. You can’t quit now, butterbean.” Tanaka attempts to balance a pencil on the tip of his nose before Ennoshita swipes it. Probably to keep Tanaka from injuring himself, though Noya suspects it has more to do with Ennoshita’s exasperation at losing precious study time than Tanaka being in danger of losing an eye or something of equal value. 

“Says the one about to maim himself with a pencil,” Noya says, launching his mostly used eraser at Tanaka’s head which the latter barely manages to deflect. “Seriously, though. I’m so exhausted that my brain cells have lost brain cells and are rallying the remaining soldiers into committing mutiny.”

“I think Nishinoya’s right,” Ennoshita pipes up before Tanaka has a chance to retort. He gives Tanaka’s head an affectionate rub and chuckles. “We got some good work done tonight, but I’m kinda running out of steam, too.”

“Quitters, all of ya!” Tanaka says, trying to stifle a yawn but giving up halfway and curling up on the floor next to Ennoshita instead.

Noya was about to respond with some quip about needing to actually be alive to take his exams when his phone goes off and startles Kinoshita awake, causing him to nearly take out Narita’s eye with the heel of his foot in the process.

Tanaka and Ennoshita visibly still, almost comically frozen had it not been for their grave expressions, and the looks they’re unsuccessfully hiding amp up Noya’s latent anxiety even more as he checks the message.

It’s been a solid week since he’s heard anything from Asahi and though a part of him is hopeful, is optimistic that maybe the radio silence is just a temporary phase that Asahi is now miraculously breaking, Kuroo’s name greets him instead and disappointment has never felt more like a punch in the gut as it does right then.

“I’m sure it’s just ‘cause it’s cram season,” Tanaka says, but the reassurance he tries to give sounds like he’s trying to convince himself just as much as he’s trying to convince Noya. 

“Wasn’t like I was expectin’ it or anything,” Noya mutters when he pulls up the message.

**Received From: kuroo**  
[text]: good news  
[text]: we got furniture  
[text]: one less thing to worry about lol

Noya tries to force back the twinge building in his chest, tries to focus instead on the good news and not the fact that Asahi’s lack of communication has been its longest running since their friendship’s inception. He chews on the edge of his bottom lip and quickly types out a response.

**Sent To: kuroo**  
[text]: awesome! really could use the good news rn  
[text]: oh n i got the first months share  
[text]: should b able to give it to u when i start movin my stuff in the weekend after eom

**Received From: kuroo**  
[text]: knew there was a reason I liked you haha  
[text]: good start bro  
[text]: I’ll let bo know and we’ll probably have your room set up when you get here

**Sent To: kuroo**  
[text]: sounds good  
[text]: thx again man i owe u guys

* * *

  

Exams had come and gone, putting both Noya and Tanaka into a vat of pressure so intense, Noya thought he’d have a breakdown before it was all over. Fortunately for him, despite Asahi’s dwindling presence, there are others who managed to get him level even if their presence doesn’t quite have the same calming effects.

Ushikira, even with her own school load and work shifts, manages to make time for him. Their occasional lunches have morphed into more routine occurrences and while Noya has completely written off any sort of romantic interaction, it seems he’s gained an insanely cool friend in the process. She’s even won over Tanaka, her quick wit and smart mouth skilled enough that Noya can’t help but be impressed. 

Now all that’s left is waiting for the results. The jumping bean routine makes a stellar comeback, Noya’s stomach reduced to jittery nerves and maybe some involuntary paper-eating. But all of that changes, makes way for some much awaited relief and poorly hidden tears of joy when Noya and Tanaka best the scores they expected to get. 

Noya whoops loud enough to burst an eardrum, causing the teachers nearby to glare reproachfully in his direction, and pulls out his phone to call Asahi. Tanaka slaps an enthusiastic high five into Noya’s waiting palm before he throws his arms around Ennoshita, onlookers be damned. 

“I could’ve sworn we failed,” Noya says, giddy and excited and considerably lighter now that the burden of exam season is officially behind him. “Couldn’t have done it without you, Chikara.”

Ennoshita laughs, but whatever response he was going to give is effectively cut off when Tanaka drags him away. Noya doesn’t try to stop them. If he knows Tanaka as well as he does, they’re doubtless on their way to the locked gym. Probably to amp up the gross and make use of the equipment room for the final time. Noya chuckles and shudders at the thought; imagining his best friend doing things he would rather not picture is not particularly high on his daydreaming list.

He glances at his phone, Asahi’s contact information staring at him before he puts the device to sleep and heads toward the cram school Asahi has been helping out in instead. The news seems much too important, too life-changing to be retold over the phone. And though Asahi’s presence has been lacking lately, Noya can’t help but be excited that Asahi is the first one he thought to tell as soon as he saw the numbers confirming the passing grade next to his name.

But as he rounds a corner, something catches his attention. Makes him skid to a halt that he’s mildly surprised his shoes haven’t started smoking from the hard stop. 

Asahi stands outside, shoulders hunched and hands shoved into the pockets of his wool jacket. He seems to be waiting for someone and, curious, Noya inches closer but hangs back behind a nearby corner, suddenly hesitant to approach in the same breath that he chastises himself for being dumb. He gives himself a pat on the back for following his gut instinct when half a minute later, the same girl he’d seen with Asahi at the train station comes out of the building with a smile so bright, it’s painful for Noya to see. 

Because the cause of it is now standing in front of her, his hands coming out of his pockets and rubbing her shoulders warm before he takes the jacket off altogether and slings it over her thin shoulders. 

She probably planned it, Noya thinks with a grumble. After all, it’s still cold enough that no one who isn’t a tourist comes out without a jacket. He watches, despite the building discomfort and the weird twingey thing his chest is doing, and somewhere in the course of their brief conversation, Noya has decided that Tanaka should make all of his decisions from now on because he obviously can’t be trusted to make the right ones himself.

Especially not when he sees Asahi laugh, can hear the sound clear as a bell in his head as though Asahi were standing right next to him. And especially not when he dips his head and Pretty Girl (whose name Noya can’t seem to remember right then) brushes back the wayward strands that fall out of his loose bun like she has the right to be in his personal space. The right to make grand sweeping gestures too intimate for Noya to stomach. 

Asahi says something, probably something worrying because Noya doesn’t miss the way his eyebrows wrinkle down the middle, the way his lips purse before the girl takes his face between her hands and smiles at him. 

They’re close

Much too close for Noya’s comfort, if he’s admitting things to the void. 

And when he catches the movement bridging the remaining space, he doesn’t wait to see the outcome. Doesn’t wait around to witness something that would probably burn into his retinas for the remainder of his natural life. 

Instead, he turns on his heel and runs all the way back to the train station.

Heart pounding. Ears buzzing. And chest so tight he has to force himself to breathe. To keep the sting away at least until he can make it back to his room.

Where it’s safe.

Where he doesn’t have to think about what Asahi would look like when he’s kissing someone else.

 

*****

 

Later that night, Noya’s phone chimes. He barely hears it, the sound muffled through the pillows he’s shoved his head against. It’s more than likely Tanaka doubtless trying to get the tabloid-level details of what happened at Asahi’s cram school, but Noya doesn’t feel like reliving the whole ordeal right then. Maybe not ever. 

When the chimes go off in one long string of obnoxious dings, he debates shutting the phone off completely, but remembers that the last time he went radio silent, his traitor of a best friend had managed to convince Asahi to drop by and check on him. 

As if he doesn’t already have enough fuel to power up an award-winning drama as it is.

The phone begins firing off another load of messages and, grumbling, Noya manages to swipe it from where he’s left it on the floor. He lifts his head from underneath the pillow and squints at the screen, fully expecting to give Tanaka just enough of a response to be left well enough alone. But while Tanaka has blown up his inbox like some rabid mother hen, his name is not the only one among the wave of texts.

Now is not the time for his heart to take up a second career as a ping pong.

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: this is going to sound like a weird question, but were you in front of the cram school today?  
[text]: Wakamiya-san said she saw you, but you seemed to be in a hurry to go somewhere.  
[text]: I was going to text you after I was done there except I didn’t want to be a bother in case you were actually doing something.  
[text]: text me back when you get this? I have something important I wanted to tell you.

Noya mulls over the content, lips pursed as he chews on the inside of his cheek and tugs his bangs in rising frustration. On the one hand, he should respond. He’s been waiting for Asahi to sound normal again, to maybe make some plans now that school is over and there’s nothing pressing eating up his time. But after what he’d seen, he doesn’t trust himself not to say something he’ll likely regret. Something on this side of stupid. And with Tanaka nowhere to be found to stop him, he figures short and sweet is the safest route.

Until he can get over it. 

Because he has to get over it. Failure is not an option if he wants to stop re-imagining things so vivid he might as well have seen the actual thing.

**Sent To: asahi**  
[text]: nope not me  
[text]: i am kinda tired tho so im just gonna go to bed  
[text]: ttyl asahi

Noya presses the phone to his chest, tries to keep the way his breaths stutter to a minimum. 

Air in.

Air out.

Rinse and repeat.

Easy.

At least, it’s supposed to be until his phone chimes with Asahi’s response:

**Received From: asahi**  
[text]: okay, get some rest. you deserve it after the week you’ve had.  
[text]: oh and when you didn’t respond earlier, I messaged Tanaka to see if he knew where you were and he told me the great news.  
[text]: congratulations :) I’m really proud of you.  
[text]: sleep well, Nishinoya

Whatever energy reserves he has left effectively vanishes and he rolls over, blindly tosses the phone across the floor, and shuts his eyes to force the familiar sting to a manageable level. 

Tanaka would have to wait. Maybe once he’s gotten a few hours to himself, to recharge and get over the utter mindfuck the universe has thrown his way, he’s convinced he might even be able to say what he’s been thinking out loud. Without the nausea. Without the gnawing, clawing feeling in his chest sucking everything out of him like some black hole vortex he’s powerless against. 

* * *

  

“Is it just me or did the ceremony take twice as long this year than last?” Tanaka stretches out his arms with a grunt, yawns to emphasize just how tired he is. 

Noya doesn’t blame him. The graduation ceremony _did_ seem exceptionally long this year compared to the one they attended last year. Why second years are required to attend graduation, he hadn’t exactly been sure, but he thinks it’s maybe to prepare them for their own snoozefests when it came time to sit and pretend to be respectable third years going into the madness of adulthood.

“At least it’s over now,” Noya mumbles belatedly, his focus on his phone and the last text message Asahi had sent him earlier in the day. When Tanaka glances over to see what’s causing his Buzz Lightyear moment, Noya attempts to clear the screen and effectively fails.

He sucks in a breath, sharp and burning something fierce in his chest. Tanaka’s going to say something. He knows it. It’ll probably come with a smack to the head, maybe accompanied by affectionate insults doubtless meant to lighten the load of teenage angst his relationship with Asahi has turned into. Though, in all honesty, he’s not even sure there’s a relationship there anymore. Not after what he’d seen. 

And it’s all his fault.

For taking too long. For not being honest as soon as he’d realized how he felt. For being too chickenshit to recognize one of the best things to happen to him in the history of ever. 

Air in.

Air out.

He needs to be functional and breathing is probably necessary if he wants to pull off at least the pretense of it.

The texts he’s gotten from Asahi the last few days have been more frequent, though tentative at best. Scared, almost. Like Asahi is testing the waters. Or tiptoeing around something. Likely to ask him if they’re still friends. 

_Just friends_ , Noya’s brain supplies much to his chagrin. 

It makes Noya terrified of saying the wrong thing, of accidentally blurting something that would burn the bridges to any hope of a reconciliation. So he responds with short things, safe things, nothing more than necessary. Hoping by some will of the gods that he’d get over all the weird, awkward shit quickly enough and he can salvage at least a reparable friendship, if anything at all. 

His methods suck; he’s the first one to admit it. 

But whatever had been going on with Asahi was confusing and frustrating and if Asahi has somehow managed to find ~~someone~~ something that makes him smile the way he did that day in front of cram school -- well, fuck it if Noya is the one that’s going to burn it to the ground.

Tanaka’s sudden snapping of his fingers dangerously close to Noya’s face makes his arm swing back and nearly take out Tanaka’s nose. He blinks at being abruptly pulled from his thoughts and scowls when Tanaka gives him that god-awful, shit-eating grin. He’s pretty sure Ennoshita’s had to deal with it enough for the rest of all humanity and though he loves Tanaka in the most epic bromantic way, he really just wants to mop that grin off his face. With some industrial-strength something or other.

Maybe that elbow to the nose wouldn’t have been a bad idea.

“Text him back. You know you wanna.” Tanaka’s attempt at grabbing the device is a long shot; Noya’s height is definitely a good thing considering he’s able to move quicker. “You’re a spry little shit, ya know that? All’s I’m sayin’ is that it’s obvious Asahi’s been tryin’ to get a hold of ya. It’s a big day for us; you ever stop to think that maybe he wants to spend some time with you? Maybe celebrate our induction into officially bein’ part of the adulting world?”

“It’s just graduation. He’s probably with his girlfriend,” Noya mutters, stowing away the phone before Tanaka gets any more ideas like, god forbid, texting Asahi on his behalf. It’s not something he’d put past Tanaka to do ~~, the sneaky little shit~~. Especially when Tanaka is convinced Noya probably misunderstood and no way Asahi has a girlfriend when it’s obvious who he’s jonesing for. “Can we talk about somethin’ else? Today’s supposed to be awesome. Freedom from school oppression and all. At least, temporarily.”

“Whatever you say, sunbeam,” Tanaka responds with a sigh much too dramatic not to give the impression that this is probably not the last time Noya will hear about it, “let’s just get to your house, yeah? I’m starvin’ and I told nee-san that--”

“Shit! I totally forgot my mom texted earlier askin’ if we can stop by the store to grab somethin’. There’s one not too far from my place.”

Beside him, Tanaka groans and clutches his stomach. “Okay, but if I die on the way there--”

“You won’t die. I’ll just call up Chikara so he can administer mouth to mouth,” Noya interrupts with a cheeky grin, effectively turning Tanaka into a walking tomato and finally getting him to shut up about other things Noya doesn’t want to talk about.

 

*****

 

“What sauce did your mom say she needed again?”

Noya scratches his cheek as he takes in the varying kinds lining the market shelf. “Uh, I can’t remember. I know it’s got a duck on the label, though. That help?”

“You’re a piece of work, precious flower. Remind me never to ask you to cook,” Tanaka says as he shakes his head with a snort. He scans the bottles, eyebrows furrowing with more concentration than necessary considering they’re just looking for a bottle of sauce, but Noya figures it couldn’t hurt since he’s skating on the brink of starvation, too.

“Nishinoya-kun?”

The familiar voice causes him to abruptly turn, nearly knocking one of the glass bottles off the shelf. Tanaka comes to the rescue, though his eyes widen a fraction when he sees who the voice belongs to.

“Ushik-- I mean, Kira-chan! Hey! What are ya doin’ all the way out here?” Noya manages to regain his footing before he flashes her a genuine smile.

“Kira-san!” he says, loud and obnoxious. Tanaka slaps her a high five and proceeds to complete the routine by bumping her hips and wiggling his fingertips against hers to finish off their secret-not-so-secret handshake. Noya stifles a laugh at how well the two have managed to get along before Tanaka smiles wide and asks, “what’s good?”

Noya hasn’t seen Ushikira in a few weeks, almost as long as he’s gone without hanging out with Asahi, but everyone’s been busy with exams. It’s not anything like Asahi’s previous absence since Noya still has no idea when the shift happened or what the cause of it is, though Noya should’ve known better regarding that anyway, been wiser about it than he’s been. Now though, he finds that running into her is probably the universe’s way of telling him to move on. To get over it. 

To get over Asahi.

And as Wakamiya’s face smiling at Asahi invades his brain like some bad dream he can’t shake off, he wonders if karma has decided to take pity on him instead of putting him through the grinder like he deserves.

Ushikira matches the smile and Noya can’t help but think how nice it is. Pretty, even. Nothing like Kiyoko’s or Asahi’s, but enough to make him warm. To push away the thoughts of things he doesn’t want to think about, things that have managed to envelop the relief and happiness of finally graduating in a large, billowing noxious cloud that’s brought back the nausea he hasn’t missed.

“I actually live a few blocks from here,” she explains, holding up one of the ready-made frozen dinners that looks like it could be a supreme cause for a premature heart attack. “My parents left for Tokyo as soon as graduation was over to see my brother, so I’m stuck making myself dinner tonight.”

“Oh man, that sucks!” Noya says, looking at the box in her hand and clicking his tongue. “But hey, if you wouldn’t mind my obnoxious little brother and my weird sister, you can join us for dinner at my place. Actually, I’m not takin’ no for an answer. I’m sure my mom wouldn’t mind settin’ out an extra plate. ‘sides, she likes you. Thinks you’re a miracle worker, though I’m pretty sure you gettin’ my brother to shut up without havin’ to do much except look pretty has somethin’ to do with it.”

At the accidental compliment, Ushikira’s cheeks flush and the reaction is contagious. Tanaka finally nudges Noya and digs his bony elbow into his ribs to bring him back to the point of the conversation. If she thought anything about Noya’s errant comment, she doesn’t mention it.

“If you’re sure she’d be okay with it--”

“Yeah, totally! I’m almost sure she’d probably smack me upside the head if she found out I ran into you and left ya to fend for yourself,” Noya answers with his grin back in place. “You gotta ditch the heart attack box, though. My mom would freak if she knew you were grubbin’ on that stuff. Might even send you home with a week’s worth of leftovers so you wouldn’t run outta stuff to eat.”

“Oddly enough, I can actually picture your mom doing that.” Ushikira laughs, the easy sound something Noya finds he really needs at the moment. More than he thought he would. Their recent interactions have been entirely friendly. Entirely innocent. But maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Maybe it’s a blessing. To help him. To make things normal again.

“Really hate to break up the party, but I found the sauce. Now can we please go back to your place? I’m feelin’ faint, sunflower. I don’t know if I can make it without proper nourishment.”

Noya rolls his eyes and takes the bottle up to the cashier. “Always the drama queen. Should I speed dial Chikara now? Preemptive strike before your untimely death?”

The comment causes Tanaka to choke on his reply and for the first time that day, Noya feels normal. Happy. Like everything could go back to how it was before Asahi. Despite the weight in his chest, the mess he’s made, the errant thoughts he can’t seem to push away. 

 

*****

 

“Okay, but seriously,” Ushikira says, a hint of a challenge in her tone as she argues with Tanaka about Pokemon skill sets. “No way is your vaporeon strong enough to knock out my exeggutor. I will solar beam you into next week.”

“Too bad I can’t make you eat your words with my hydro pump. Damn it, why’d we have to be on the same team?!” Tanaka vigorously rubs the top of his head, which earns him a reproachful snort from Noya.

“You’re gonna shock yourself at the door handle again. Watch.” Noya laughs and sure enough, when Tanaka makes to open Noya’s front door, he flinches just as an audible zap accompanies the spark of blue. His laughter gets considerably louder and he’s just about to comment on how it’s better that they’re all on Team Instinct because taking down gyms would be so much easier with a group when he spots Asahi as soon as he walks through the threshold.

Without realizing until it’s too late, the bag containing the mystery duck-labeled sauce slips from his grasp, his fingers suddenly forgetting how to work.

Thankfully for him, Tanaka has quick reflexes and he catches it before the resulting catastrophe gave them all a reason to trek back to the store.

“N-Nishinoya, I wanted to--” Asahi halts, his gaze focusing behind Noya and Tanaka as he clears his throat. “Apologize. Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t know your girlf-- that you’d be bringing someone else. You weren’t answering my texts this morning, so I wanted to see if you were okay. I see now that you are. Of course you are. I-I shouldn’t have come. I knew you’d probably be busy and now I’m intruding-- well, a-anyway, I wanted to say congratulations on graduating.” He offers Tanaka a strained smile and a nod. “You, too, Tanaka. I’m just, um, I suppose I’ll be going then--”

It takes all of two seconds for the anger to build to minefield explosion levels and because Noya doesn’t trust himself to keep things civilized even with his other friends standing there for intervention purposes, he glares at Asahi and exhales sharply.

“My room. _Now_.”

Asahi is effectively terrified. Maybe even trembling from the looks of it before he takes the lead and makes his way up the stairs first. But Noya doesn’t care. Not when everything he’s tried to let go comes rushing back like some devastating tsunami intent on wiping out every good intention he’s had, every high road he’s tried to take. Just so he wouldn’t be forced to say things to Asahi he knows he wouldn’t be able to take back. To regurgitate things that would ruin any sort of friendship they could rebuild. 

But now Asahi is here. Saying things. Making assumptions. Borderline accusations.

The way he’d looked at Ushikira hadn’t been subtle either, but as far as Noya is concerned, Asahi has no right. Not after he kissed that girl. Or Noya is pretty sure he would have had Noya stuck around to see the result. But he’s smarter than that. More self-preserving. There is no way in hell he would have ever burned that image out of his mind if he’d actually seen it.

“Ryuu, do me a favor and help my mom? This isn’t gonna take long.”

“Noya, maybe you shouldn’t--”

“It’s fine. I got this.” Noya bites his cheek, resolute as he watches Asahi disappear from the top of the stairs, his jaw clenching and blunt nails digging angry crescents into his palms. “Grab Kira a drink while you’re in there, yeah? Be back in a minute.”

He storms after Asahi and slams the door shut behind him with more force than he means to. There are things he needs to get out, to clear the air, and his mother coming up to see what all the ruckus is about won’t help his situation any. Asahi stands in the middle of the room, hands wringing together and looking a little uncomfortable in light of Noya’s reaction.

Maybe more than a little uncomfortable. 

Noya feels a small amount of guilt in the satisfaction he feels. So many things are flooding his head, so much that he can’t get a handle on them, but the silence in the small room is louder, more stifling than anything his mind can throw at him.

After a few minutes of the tense quiet, Asahi takes a step toward the door, flustered and apologetic as he scratches his cheek. Probably a way to distract Noya from what’s really going on. “I think I should go. Your mom might need help and Tanaka’s probably wondering what’s taking so long and--”

But Noya is too quick, too riled up about the unexpected visit to give Asahi any leeway. Too many things are going through his head, too many questions jumbled together amid a haze of white noise, images from the scene in front of Asahi’s cram school resurfacing and amping up his already frayed nerves. One second he’s standing in front of his door to block Asahi’s attempted exit and the next his hands are shoving Asahi back hard enough to make him stumble in surprise. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?!” Noya grinds out, teeth grit and jaw clenching. His hands curl into the fabric of Asahi’s shirt, ball so tightly his knuckles whiten from the strain. “You have the fuckin’ nerve to show up here and talk about shit you know jack shit about?!”

Asahi looks shell-shocked, frozen in place by Noya’s outburst. He worries the edge of his bottom lip, eyebrows creasing and furrowing together while he contemplates how to respond. “I didn’t mean--”

“Bullshit. You damn well meant to--”

“I saw you at the ramen place you and I had gone to,” Asahi says quietly, his gaze flickering to the floor before he chances meeting Noya’s eyes again. “You guys were sitting really close. I just assumed--”

“We’re friends. For now.” He watches the way Asahi’s expression shifts, the hurt mirrored behind the gentleness of his eyes. “I’m allowed to have other friends just like you’re allowed to have other friends. Or girlfriends. Or whatevers.”

“Nishinoya...”

Noya releases him and takes a step back, something inside him welling up and making his chest much too tight, his throat stuck with something heavy and sticky and hard to swallow. “What are ya really doin’ here, Asahi? ‘Cause, honestly, it’s been pretty clear you’ve been too busy with your own girlfriend to hang out before and now you’re showin’ up outta nowhere when I’ve finally made my fucking peace with it.”

“M-My girlfriend?” Asahi asks. He blinks, clearly confused, and it takes all of Noya’s self-control not to do something this side of stupid that he’d usually have Tanaka hold him back for. “Who are you talking about?”

With a scoff, Noya tugs on his bangs in visible frustration because now is not the time he wants to relive the experience he’s taken days to shove out of his head. It’s his graduation day; he’s supposed to be happy and worry-free and enjoying the scant amount of freedom before adulting kicks his ass into gear come spring. But apparently, Asahi has other ideas. Ideas that involve talking about things Noya doesn’t want to talk about, things that leave his mouth cotton-dry, his brain a vortex of confusion that he can’t escape no matter how many hours of sleep he loses over it.

“I saw you!” Noya cries out, his eyes bugging out at the accidental admission. He slaps a hand to his mouth to keep from saying more, but Asahi’s bewildered expression only adds fuel to the tirade sitting on the tip of his tongue. “I went to cram school, to see if you were there ‘cause I wanted to surprise you, to tell you about passin’ exams. _I was so excited_. Didn’t matter that you’d gone M.I.A. or that you’ve been actin’ like I’ve got the fucking plague every time you do manage to respond. So I went there. _Like an idiot_. I saw you w--” He exhales sharply, digs the heels of his palms into his eyes to try and erase the memory of Asahi smiling at the girl whose likeness has been burned into Noya’s retinas no matter how much he’s tried to forget. “Ya know what? Doesn’t matter. You don’t owe me an explanation and I sure as hell don’t need to say more than I’ve said already.”

He stalks past Asahi, his shoulder digging into Asahi’s arm as he knocks him aside, and yanks his favorite game case from the bookshelf against the wall. The white noise in his head returns, discord and static jumbled together and causing him to drop the case before muttering a string of curses as he picks it back up. He pries it open, grabs the wrinkled handkerchief pressed inside, and turns back around to shove it at Asahi.

“Nishinoya?” Asahi says, fingers grasping the fabric tighter when he realizes what it is. “Why are you giving this ba--”

“I don’t want it,” Noya interrupts, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe when he chances a look at Asahi and sees that his expression has crumpled, has taken on a look of quiet devastation. Noya’s stomach drops to the floor at the sight. He redirects his gaze to the tatami mats instead, pays close attention to the woven pattern, focuses on a small stain from when Tanaka had spilled orange juice during one of their intense video game matches the year before. “I probably should’ve given it back to you a while ago. Figured you should give it to who you really wanted to give it to, but I guess I was too chickenshit to man up about it then, so I’m doin’ it now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I meant to give it to y--”

“Don’t,” Noya snaps, fists clenching at his sides. He turns on his heel and takes a deep breath, counts down from ten and feels air leave his lungs in a slow exhale. Then he grabs his sketchbook from the same bookcase, his fingers itching to let out some pent up stress, to get out the cloud of noxious crap in his head so he doesn’t have to think about anything hard. Anything complicated. Anything that makes being around Asahi as difficult as being away from him. Something warm trails down his cheeks, taints his lips with a taste of salt. He swipes his face with the back of his hand and realizes, belatedly, that he’s crying. 

_Not now._

_This can’t be happenin’._

_Not now._

Air in.

Air out.

Rinse and repeat.

“Nishinoya--”

“I need you to leave,” Noya mumbles, his voice betraying him as it splinters at the last word. “It’s my graduation and today’s not supposed to suck. It’s not supposed to--”

His hand shakes, trembles with the force of the self-control he’s having trouble maintaining, and the sketchbook he’s holding slips from his grasp. Loose pages flutter and scatter across the floor. It isn’t until he glances down that he realizes what they are.

Noya stills, feels a deadening weight drop into his gut.

Various poses, different angles, large and small.

But all unmistakably Asahi. 

Noya stares at them, feels his heart jump into his throat, the air cutting off when he takes in what it must look like. He wonders if he should be embarrassed, if he should feel a semblance of stupidity at the slight, but he feels dumb enough already that the longer he stares at the pictures strewn on the floor, the less he cares about the exposure. He’s already made an idiot of himself, which isn’t difficult, considering. Things have already gone from bad to worse to shitstorm on an apocalyptic level in less time than it takes for Noya to formulate some sort of lame excuse. There isn’t anything else that can make the situation shittier than it already is, so he does the only thing he can do. 

He hastily bends to pick up the sketches, ignores the way his heart hammers against his rib cage, the way blood roars in his ears like a deafening crescendo, the tremor in his hand as the pages crinkle from the careless way he gathers the evidence of his internal battle. His sleeve drags across his face, smears the damp streaks already drying when he feels arms wrap around him. Warmth presses against his nape, Asahi’s forehead anchored there. A lifeline of sorts, something to ground him and keep him from falling deeper into the panic attack he’s doubtless having. 

Noya’s breath catches.

It’s as if everything stops, the pause button used to suspend everything around him like some kind of warped movie about his life. It makes him shake from weight of it, the silent impact causing his vocal chords to forget how talking is supposed to work, how breathing is supposed to function. 

Then, finally, he speaks. Rasped and broken and filled with all the doubt he’s been trying to bury. “What do you want from me? I don’t know what you want from me,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing the sting to seep from the edges, trail down his face like rivulets of his own misery. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or how I’m supposed to act. You give me a stupid button and _what_? What was I supposed to do with it? I just... what the hell was I supposed to do, Asahi?”

His hands tremble, clench the sketches tighter so that crinkles fill the heavy silence. And then he bows his head, gives up on picking up the strewn paper, his chest tight and pressed uncomfortably against his thighs. Chin resting atop the bends of his knees, he gives up on the tickling heat trailing down his cheeks, too. Figures he can’t get any more pathetic, watches as the droplets fall and dot the mangled pages he hasn’t managed to pick up from the floor. 

“I’m sorry.” It’s barely a whisper, softer and more fragile than Asahi has ever sounded. It unnerves Noya, reels him back a little, makes him feel less angry than he did a minute before, but just as frustrated. Just as confused.

Maybe more.

Definitely more.

Noya bites his lip and sniffles, stares hard at the tatami mats like they would have all the answers to the questions having a battle royale with his brain.

At his silence, Asahi continues in the same voice. Hesitant and shuddery, contrasting with how deep and full it usually is. “I didn’t know what to say or what to do, either. You never brought up the button and I didn’t know if it meant you were rejecting me or if it was something else. I was being dumb, I know,” he says with a wry chuckle, “and I’ve probably read too many of those shoujo mangas my sister keeps getting me.”

“Really dumb,” Noya mumbles, but can’t help the hint of a smile despite the tightening in his chest, the punch-out look he probably resembles.

“I know,” Asahi reiterates, pressing his forehead against Noya’s nape with a sigh. The warmth sears into Noya’s skin, makes him force a swallow as Asahi continues. “I should have just been honest from the start, said something instead of giving you the button and letting it do the talking for me.”

Noya scratches his nail along the woven pattern of the mat. “Look how well that turned out.”

Asahi laughs, the sound fuller and more akin to the laugh Noya has stored away in his memory. It makes their conversation easier somehow, remembering that sound, and makes him more willing to listen to what Asahi has to say despite the ring of doubt.

“I already said I was dumb. But I-I’ve never confessed to anyone before and-- well, you know me. It takes a lot for me to say what I really want to say. It all seems easier to deal with when it’s just in my head.”

“What that?”

Asahi’s exhale is warm against Noya’s skin. “What’s what?”

“What did you really want to say?”

He feels Asahi stiffen behind him, like he’s trying to steel himself for something. Or maybe he’s trying to find a way to let Noya down easy and he doesn’t quite know how. Downfalls of being one of the nice guys, he supposes. 

“Never mind, you don’t have to answer that--”

“I wanted you.”

It should have been a relief hearing it outright. But instead Noya’s brain zeroes in on the one thing that breaks the entire thing, that has him leaving Indecision City on his way to Suckerville and wondering how he could have possibly been so stupid.

There should be a manual for his life. A how-to guide to show him all the routes so that he doesn’t fuck up and get lost along the way.

“...wanted?”

As in, past tense.

No longer available.

Expired.

His expression crumples and, despite the monumental amount of self control he’s currently exerting, a tremor rocks him. Forces his hands into fists again. 

Then Asahi clears his throat and splutters, his arms around Noya loosening. “W-Want. As in, still.  In any way you were willing to give me, I suppose. I thought about asking about the button more times than I can count, really I did. But then we started hanging out more and it was nice. Better than nice. The button seemed like such a stupid idea after a while. I got to know you more than I already did and I didn’t want to ruin it by making it weird and bringing it up when it was the coward’s way of telling you how I felt to begin with. So I didn’t.”

Noya turns his head, catches a glimpse of Asahi from his peripheral. “Why are you telling me now?”

Asahi releases him and takes a seat on the floor, his hands braced against his temples. Noya turns fully to face him, curious about the answer now that his insides don’t feel like they're rebelling against him.

“Because the way you looked at me, how upset you were, how angry with me for showing up you seemed... I figured, I didn’t have anything else to lose. If my saying all of this, by being here-- if you don’t want that, I can go. But I thought, for once, I should do what I should have done, tell you what I have to say so there’s no misunderstanding. If it doesn’t turn out the way I hoped, you were already upset with me, so I’m in the same boat anyway.”

He sucks in a breath and seconds suspend in Noya’s head like one of those pendulums in some dramatic movie that grows louder with every daunting second that ticks by. A little ominous. A little unnerving. Definitely the cause for the DEFCON-level jumping bean routine making its spectacular comeback. 

“If you don’t want me here, I’ll go,” Asahi repeats, eyes droopy and showing a helplessness Noya can empathize with. “What do you want, Nishinoya?”

The weight of Noya’s answer sits on the tip of his tongue. His heart pounds beats of a death march against his rib cage, clammy hands flexing in and out, blood rushing to his ears. It’s the whole nine yards and then some, and he’s acutely aware that Asahi is staring. Expectant for an answer. Any answer but the quiet of the room that’s suddenly made it hard to suck the air back into his lungs. He opens his mouth to say something, but it feels like some warped out desert wasteland. Or it would if he knew what a desert wasteland felt like, which is probably irrelevant at this point. All these things yammering in his head, things he wants to say, to shout into the void if that’s what it takes, and all he manages to croak out is,

“You.”

Now Asahi is still. 

Quiet. Stunned, by the looks of it. Sad eyes wide and strong jaw softer as it falls slack before he manages to find his voice again. “M-Me?”

Without hesitation, Noya scoots closer and gets on his knees before resting back against his heels. He tugs on his bangs for emphasis as he tries to calm the butterfly cavern going to town in his stomach. And fails miserably. 

“Surprise?” he says with a nervous laugh. “I guess it’s kinda my fault you’re confused. Took me a while to wrap my head around it, even when I admitted it to myself. I figured, whatever was goin’ on with us, how we were, it was fine. Great, ya know? And whatever happened after would just do it by itself. Eventually. So I didn’t push it ‘cause I didn’t want it to change and I wasn’t ready to admit it to anyone else. Not out loud where I can’t take it back, anyway. I was gonna say somethin’, bring it up at some point ‘cause not knowin’ where we stood and dancin’ around everything-- it was startin’ to put me off my game. But I thought, I dunno-- you’ve been more tied up lately and whenever I tried to get ya to hang out, to talk even, you’ve always got somethin’ goin’ on. I thought maybe you might’ve been into me, but changed your mind. So I backed off.”

“Ah,” Asahi says, face planting against his hand. He mumbles something, muffled and barely decipherable, though Noya swears he hears something that definitely sounds like “fuck”.

Noya blinks. “Okay, I know whatever that was is definitely tabloid-worthy ‘cause I seriously heard ‘fuck’ and there was nothin’ wishy-washy about it.”

Instantly, pink dusts Asahi’s cheeks. Subtle, but noticeable enough that Noya grins. 

“I’m sorry, it just, uh, comes out sometimes.”

“Don’t apologize. I think it’s kinda cute.” Noya flinches at his response and resists the urge to do some face planting of his own. Keeping a lid on the flirty banter is probably a good idea considering the huge elephant prancing around the room like it owns the place. “But ya know, it’s no big secret that I’m attract--” His throat seizes and he coughs to clear it. “That you’re attractive. Yeah, that’s what I-- anyway. Don’t apologize.”

“O-Okay,” Asahi says and he smiles, genuinely this time. The first real smile since their conversation began. It makes Noya want to follow suit despite the angry knots twisting in his gut. “And about being busy-- that’s my fault. I should have, um, explained why, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up. In case, you know, I... failed.” Asahi sighs, bows his head before giving it a firm shake. “I didn’t. Change my mind, I mean. I never-- not after everything... I just-- I wanted you to be proud of me. Out of everyone, I always worried about what you thought. What you think. Now, even.”

Noya’s eyebrow peaks about as high as his confusion meter. “Get your hopes up about what?”

“Cram school,” Asahi mumbles, glances up at Noya with something that mirrors distress or fear or both. “I-I wasn’t just helping out there.”

Everything seems to suspend for a second. The longest second of Noya’s life, if he’s admitting things to the void. His heart drops, nearly collides with his stomach lurching into his throat. The nausea he hasn’t missed makes a spectacular comeback and he thinks of the girl he saw Asahi with. Thinks of the other times he’s seen her. Of the way Asahi has looked at her and how easy it always seemed between them.

This is it. 

Asahi’s going to tell him that he got tired of waiting, that whatever limbo experimental period he’d been in is just that: experimental. Temporary. That he’s realized the whole “I’m into guys” thing is just a phase and Noya would be left to deal with the fallout from his own mindfuck realization that bisexuality is actually a thing that exists in his own realm.

He sucks in a breath, feels his lungs expand from the force of it. Tight and strained and a little painful.

Maybe more than a little.

Then he ventures, “so Wakamiya-san--?”

“--is just a friend.”

The air leaves Noya in a rush, the sound audible in the short silence that follows. Relief comes hand in hand, a blanket of calm washing over him despite the thundering beats pounding against his rib cage like they mean to break them. 

Scrubbing his face when he sees the skepticism Noya is sure is pouring out of him like thick, billowing clouds, Asahi meets his gaze head on. Resolute. Determination marked there as though he means to convince Noya with the look alone. “Wakamiya-san was my study partner. I don’t know what you think you saw, but the only thing we were doing was congratulating each other.”

“Study... partner?” Again, Noya blinks. Kicks himself in his metaphorical shins because he feels like he’s got all the puzzle pieces, but is too dumb to know how to put them all together. But he’s been dumb about a lot of things, especially when it comes to everything involving Asahi. “And congratulating each other on what?”

“Passing.” When Noya gives him another Bambi-blinking stare, Asahi clarifies, “Exams. I took the entrance exams to get into the school you’re going to next term.”

Asahi worries his bottom lip, his teeth biting along the edge seemingly in anticipation to how Noya would take the news. 

Then it clicks.

Piece by piece, all the parts come together and Noya fumbles his response with an intelligent, “huh?”

“I guess you won’t be the only first year at university,” Asahi says, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“When did you-- I didn’t even know you-- but how?!”

Asahi blooms into a full smile, a certain pride brimming that triggers something akin to joy and it’s all Noya can do to keep himself from launching at Asahi in his instantaneous excitement. 

“It’s actually because of you that I even considered it.” Asahi’s shoulders lift in a subtle shrug. “You made me want to do something. Be better. I wanted to be better. For you. And ever since we started being what we were--” He pauses, backtracks to correct himself, “-- _are_ , I began to think it could be something that has a chance of happening. But I was terrified of disappointing you, of failing. I didn’t want you to think any less of me.”

“So this whole time..?”

“I was studying. To make sure I could pass. I-I guess I made a mess of things by not telling you, but I was going to. After I passed. When we got the news, Wakamiya-san almost convinced me to call you right then and there to tell you because she knows how terrible I’ve felt about keeping it to myself, but I wanted to tell you in person. T-To celebrate. But when I tried, you were being short and I thought I did something to make you pull away again. Maybe because I haven’t been around lately. Or maybe because you changed your mind and it didn’t want to hurt my feelings. I felt horrible after that.”

Noya takes it all in, tries to process. Get his bearings straight despite the conflicting actions his heart and stomach are currently trying to accomplish. But he manages somehow, zeroes in on the bomb that nearly annihilated him, and meets Asahi’s gaze head on.

“You realize we’re probably two of the biggest idiots on the planet, right?”

Asahi laughs and Noya’s stomach does a little flutter, throws in a little weakness in the knees.

“The thought has crossed my mind. More me than you, though.”

“I’m just as guilty, don’t worry.”

It’s silent for a few minutes as Noya marinates over everything, weighs the pros and cons like some Lifetime B-movie of his life. If there is ever that one pivotal moment that can qualify as “life-changing”, this would definitely be it. And he is probably going to need to industrialize his own balls in order to swing the change in his favor. After all the time he spent trying to get Tanaka to man up and get his shit together, he should have taken a page out of his own book. Despite the fear, despite whatever issues his father had left him to deal with.

Before it was too late.

“So... we’re okay?” Asahi asks, looking hopeful again. Big droopy doe-eyes and all.

“Yeah, we’re good.” Then he reiterates, because he needs Asahi to say it, to hear it directly from him without any sort of misunderstanding prancing around between the lines. “Friends?”

“I-Is that what you want? To be just friends?”

It occurs to him that Asahi is gripping something tightly in his hand, the fabric of the handkerchief sticking out between the grooves of his fingers. Noya shakes his head, reaches out to press a corner of the cloth between his fingertips. Then his arms are around Asahi, cheek pressed against Asahi’s neck like he’s trying to ground himself. Breathes out a sigh before he says, “no, not even a little bit.”

Asahi relaxes with the admission, the quiet hum vibrating against Noya’s cheek before he pulls away just enough to place the wrinkled handkerchief back into Noya’s hand and presses both against his chest with a shaky, nervous kind of chuckle. “C-Can I--?”

Noya raises an eyebrow at the question, the butterfly cavern in his stomach going into overdrive as he watches Asahi nervously bite his lower lip. It’s unfair, really. He’s pretty sure the maneuver is bordering on illegal, especially when he absently mimics the gesture as his brain short-circuits at the thought of Asahi’s mouth. Of doing things to Asahi’s mouth that is probably inappropriate considering the heaviness of their current predicament. 

“What?”

Asahi quietly gulps. “Kiss you?”

Noya wonders if internally freaking out in exponential levels is normal. Because he’s fairly certain that is exactly what is happening. Full on Bambi-mode complete with comically widened eyes he hastily attempts to tone down.

“Do you normally ask before you do that kind of stuff with other people?”

“I-I’ve never, um, actually... done. That. With other people.” Ducking his head in embarrassment, Asahi manages another shaky laugh, his cheeks tinged a definite pink. “And when I tried before, you kept dodging, so I thought I’d ask first this time around.”

“Oh my god, Asahi, you’re so dumb.” And then before his nerve decides to nosedive out of some metaphorical window, Noya grabs Asahi’s shirtfront.

Shuts his eyes.

And kisses him.

He’s not sure what he expected, but whatever it was definitely can’t hold a candle to the real deal. Asahi’s mouth is softer than he imagined, a little chapped and more relaxed considering ninety percent of the time, Asahi is one big ball of bundled nerves. He seems to know what he’s doing more than Noya, though Noya’s lacking experience factors in when he realizes his hands are still grasping Asahi’s shirt and he has no idea how to turn his head, or if he should turn it at all, or when he should take a breath because breathing might be instrumental to fleshing out a relationship at some point.

Asahi’s hands come up to cradle Noya’s face, warm and calloused. Strong. Sure. Truth be told, Noya is impressed; Asahi asserting himself could definitely be something he can get used to.

He keeps a firm grasp despite the gentleness that takes Noya by surprise. What had started out hurried and a little awkward slowly finds a rhythm as Asahi takes the reins, the careful way he tilts his head to deepen the kiss making Noya moan a sigh into his mouth that could have been marginally embarrassing had he not been too preoccupied with where Asahi’s tongue is going and what his tongue is doing. It’s all happening so quickly that Noya’s brain might have short circuited in the process. Instead, he falls in all the way, forgets whatever reservations he has, and gives up on trying to contain the butterfly cavern celebrating in his gut. 

When they pull away, it’s little by little. Like a dying flame reduced to still-burning embers or an all-out sprint losing steam, but still going until the kisses become softer, more PG, but with enough to leave Noya’s head buzzing, fingertips tingly. His lungs burn, winded in a way that only happens during a particularly grueling practice. But different. Not as exhausting, though leaving him weakened in much the same way. 

He pulls away to process the moment, untangles his fingers from the wrinkled front of Asahi’s shirt and bites the edge of his lip. There’s a hammering in his chest, a sort of strange muted ringing in his ears, and he briefly he wonders if kissing Asahi would always leave him this high, this terrifyingly exhilarated.

Because he is. 

He so is to the umpteenth power times a hundred whoa’s and he wishes he could kick his past self in the shins for denying himself something that makes him feel like he can take on the world.

“Damn it. We could’ve done that so much sooner,” he mumbles, eyes still closed as he takes in how Asahi smells. Breathes him in until Noya is dizzy with it, punch drunk and then some. The familiarity of the scent, the way it calms him. Like a fond memory and it occurs to him now just how much he’s missed it.

Asahi chuckles, his thumbs idly sweeping underneath Noya’s cheekbones. “In my defense, I did try--”

“I know, but--”

“--a few times, actually.”

“I _know_. I was stupid. I could have won an Olympic gold in stupid ‘cause I think about it all the time, but well--”

“You think about kissing me?”

“I--” Heat ignites at Noya’s nape and spreads until he feels the burn in his cheeks. Wonders if Asahi can feel it, too. “You weren’t supposed to know that.”

Asahi smiles, gentle eyes crinkling at the corners. “I like knowing.”

Noya retracts back a fraction, bites his lip again, tries to contain the grin he can’t seem to hold back. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Asahi flushes, drops his gaze for a second before he murmurs, “it’s nice to know I’m not the only one.”

This time, Noya doesn’t bother hiding the smile. Bright and wide and making his face hurt from the exertion. It takes a monumental amount of force to snap himself out of his self-indulgent euphoria, but there is still one more thing he wants to get out in the open. 

To make sure there aren’t any more misunderstandings. To give himself some peace of mind knowing they’re on the same page.

“So... we’re official now?”

Asahi’s face ascends a few shades past tomato, but he keeps his eyes level with Noya’s questioning gaze. Manages a half-embarrassed, half-teasing, “I guess so.” Then he hastily adds, “i-if that’s what you want, too.”

“Yeah.” Threading his fingers around Asahi’s nape, he leans in, brushes Asahi’s nose with the tip of his own, and hums, “definitely. Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“As much as I’d like to stay here and keep kissing you, shouldn’t we be getting back downstairs? I’m a little stressed out that your mom might say something with it being your graduation day and all.”

Noya purses his lips in mock contemplation and pins Asahi with a mischievous grin. “We probably have another five minutes before Ryuu busts in here like the cavalry to see if I’ve committed murder yet--”

“Nishinoya--”

“Besides, I have it on good authority that kissing relieves stress,” Noya casually continues, arms resting along Asahi’s shoulders as the grin widens to a full-blown smile. 

“On whose authority again?”

“Mine.”

“But--”

“Asahi, shut up and kiss me.”

When Asahi complies, Noya swears he sees stars ignite, feels them burn brighter than all the doubt until there’s nothing left but Asahi’s warmth, the soft crinkles of forgotten paper beneath them, and the flutter of butterflies no longer angry.

No longer frustrated.

No longer confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has legit been the scene I've been waiting to write since I first started this fic and I hope the result was as good as the anticipation. :D As always, comments and kudos fuel my writer soul and are always much appreciated. :D

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at [@limitlessmonster](http://limitlessmonster.tumblr.com). Hoyeah. :D


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